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“ I am holding on 


father.” 


p. 14 


A Misunderstood Hero 


By 

MARY BARNES BEAL 


BOSTON 

XTbe pilQilm [Press 

NEW YORK CHICAGO 


Iwc Oopie-i i-'.-xsivtfJ 

APR ' lyUD 

ficiiry 

U..SS >5? ' AXc. Nui 
' COpj d. 




Copyright 1905, 

BY 

MARY BARNES BEAL 


Contents 


I. The Meeting at Glen Elsworth . . 5 

II. Ralph, His Doings and Misdoings . . 31 

III. Miss Agatha Learns More About the 

Sinclair Family .... 43 

IV. Frank^s Misadventure With His Plate, 

AND Other Matters . . . .60 

V. Miss Agatha Makes Friends With Frank 

AND Scolds Ralph .... 79 

VI. Frank and Miss Agatha Take Their 

First Walk Together ... 94 

VII. Ralph’s Accident . . . . .120 

VIII. Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 

TO Frank . . . . . .138 

IX. The Ascent of Mount Lorrington . 165 

X. The Little Sisters of the Mountain . 179 

XL An Adventure With a Snake . .201 

XII. Miss Agatha’s Birthday . . .216 

XIII. Who Shot the Horse .... 239 

XIV. The Old Mine ..... 260 

XV. Philip’s Repentance .... 274 

XVI. How Laddie Saved a Precious Life . 286 

XVII. Frank’s Illness ..... 305 

XVIII. Conclusion 325 


3 


4 


? 


A Misunderstood Hero 


CHAPTEE I 

THE MEETING AT GLEN ELSWOETH 

In and out among a crowd of jostling men, 
women and children, shouting hackmen, surly 
baggagemen, piles of trunks, boxes, baskets, and 
freight of all descriptions, I wended my way. I 
had just stepped from the car at the station of 
Millwood and felt anxious and forlorn. I was 
looking for a certain light blue vehicle with a 
black top, which I had been led to expect would 
be somewhere about the station to meet this 
train. 

Presently I perceived it at a little distance, 
with a black man sitting on the driver’s seat, and 
a white man standing at the horses’ heads. At 
the very moment my eyes fell on this latter in- 
dividual he saw me, too, and with instinctive 
knowledge of my wants, left his horses, and with 
a loud “ Coach, mum ? Yes, mum, cornin’, mum,” 
came leaping up to the platform, jumping over a 
trunk here and a hen-coop there, until he reached 
the place where I stood. 

5 


6 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ Coach, mum ? ” he said again, all out of 
breath. 

“ I wish to take the coach that goes up into 
the mountains,” I said. “ I have forgotten its 
name. Is that it over there ? ” 

“Yes, mum; sure, mum. The Mount Eyre 
coach. To the hotel, mum ? ” 

“Ho, it is to a Mrs. Dale’s house that I wish 
to go. Do you know the place ? ” I asked 
anxiously, for I was all alone, and certainly did 
not care to start upon a rough, jolting ride up 
the mountains for nothing. 

“ Oh, yes, mum. Glen Elsworth, mum. Come 
on, mum, it ’s only a step to the coach, mum,” he 
said encouragingly. “ I ’ll just put ye in, mum, 
and git your trunks, and off ’s the word, mum. 
Checks, mum ? ” 

“ You are sure it is all right and you know the 
place ? Mrs. Dale’s, somewhere near the village 
of Dingley up in the mountains. I have never 
been there.” 

“ Yes, mum ! Sure, mum ! It ’s all right, 
mum. We go by there every day. Glen Els- 
worth. Fine place, mum. Eight in here on the 
back seat, mum. How you ’re all right, mum.” 

Perhaps I was, but I felt decidedly all wrong 
and bewildered, for I was only a little old maid, 
with my fifty-fifth birthday well behind me, 
somewhat timid, and quite unused to traveling 
alone. It was an unheard-of undertaking for 


7 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 

me, this starting out to find a lonely farmhouse 
high up in the Blue Kidge Mountains. I had ex- 
pected a companion, but at the last moment she 
had failed me, and I would not at that late day 
alter my plans, when my arrangements were all 
made and word of my speedy coming had been 
sent to the mistress of Glen Elsworth. 

As I sat in the corner of the coach, waiting 
for my trunks to be strapped on, I felt, as I have 
said, quite anxious and forlorn. The thought of 
the rough mountain road, which I had heard 
was, though not exactly perilous, yet trying to 
the strongest woman’s nerves, made me tremble, 
and I was also afraid of the black driver, — of 
his ability as a coachman, I mean ; for he himself 
was a benevolent looking old uncle. I felt my- 
self growing every moment more nervous and 
frightened as I sat back in my corner, waiting 
for the genial proprietor of the coach to com- 
plete his leisurely disposition of my modest 
baggage. 

Suddenly I heard him shouting again, “ Coach, 
sir? Yes, sir, here it is, sir. Cornin’, sir.” And 
with a violent cracking of his fingers and waving 
of his hat to attract some one’s attention, off he 
started. 

Glancing out I saw a tall man in a gray suit 
looking about somewhat eagerly, as I had myself 
been doing a few moments before. JSTear him 
stood a lady, also tall and very graceful, quietly 


8 


A Misunderstood Hero 


but fashionably clad in a traveling dress of 
brown. By her side was a young girl of four- 
teen or fifteen and a boy of possibly eleven 
years of age. 

When my eyes had once rested on this boy 
they would not leave him. I thought that in all 
my life I had never seen so handsome a lad. Of 
the lady and the girl I could form little idea, for 
their traveling hats and veils shaded their faces ; 
but there was nothing in the boy’s cap perched 
carelessly on the back of his sunny curls, to hide 
his broad forehead with its finely-arched eye- 
brows and the dancing blue eyes beneath. He 
was looking about him in wide-awake fashion, 
chattering and apparently bestowing his valuable 
advice upon his elders as to the next best step, 
just as I had seen boys like him do a hundred 
times before. Hobody paid any attention to 
him, however. The gentleman stepped forward 
to meet the coach proprietor, who, after some 
preliminary conversation, ushered the whole 
party to where the black driver and I awaited 
them. 

I now saw that there was another person with 
them whom I had not before observed. It was a 
little lame boy, probably a year or two younger 
than the other. He was not handsome like the 
first boy. One leg seemed to be a little shorter 
than the other, while aside from his lameness, 
naturally the first thing to attract a stranger’s 


9 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 

notice, he was near-sighted, and although he 
wore glasses, he seemed to find it necessary to 
walk with his head bent a little forward. His 
whole attitude, as he walked on after the others, 
contrasted unfavorably with that of his graceful 
brother — if he were his brother. Then, too, the 
younger boy’s face had a sullen, downcast aspect. 
Altogether I did not like his appearance at all. 
But the first boy, who had by this time reached 
the coach and stood looking frankly and brightly 
up at me with his wide blue eyes, was like a 
young king, and I could not resist giving him a 
smile and a “ Good-morning, here is a place for 
you next to me.” 

He touched his cap, or the place where his cap 
should have been, and answered with a merry 
smile and a “ Good-morning,” too. 

“ I ’ll wait for father,” he said, and by this time 
they had all come up. 

It was easy to see that it was ‘‘ father ” indeed, 
who had come to the side of the coach and was 
looking for comfortable seats within. Hever 
were father and son more alike than this tall, 
fine-looking man and my young friend. I took 
the gentleman to be forty, or forty-five, for there 
were gray hairs here and there about his head 
and moustache and a few lines of care, if not of 
age, upon the brow and at the corners of the 
eyes. He had an intellectual, thoughtful face, 
unusually grave and even sad. I set him down 


10 A Misunderstood Hero 

at once as a professional man, and probably a 
scholar. 

The lady, too, was a person of very distin- 
guished appearance. Although no longer young, 
her face might still have been called beautiful 
had not a haughty and somewhat sour expression 
marred the effect of the regular features and 
fair, smooth complexion. As for the girl, she 
was like many another maiden of fifteen, plump 
and fair, with a fresh, rosebud face and merry 
blue eyes. She was not, however, so strikingly 
handsome as her father and brother, though a 
strong family likeness assured me she was daugh- 
ter to one and sister to the other. 

“ Here, Margaret,” said the gentleman, turning 
to the lady to assist her. “ You and Madge take 
the back seat and the boys and I will just fill the 
other. Going to have it all to ourselves, I see, 

with plenty of room Ah! I beg pardon, 

madam,” he added, in some confusion. “ I did not 
see that there was a lady already here,” and he 
glanced at his party a little puzzled, as if he were 
counting heads and wondering where he had best 
stow them and their numerous bags, baskets, 
guns, fishing-tackle and the like. 

I am so small that it was not strange he had 
not observed me sitting well back in my dark 
corner. I now hastened to say : 

“ But I am sure, sir, there will be plenty of 
room. Let the two little boys sit back with me, 


11 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 

and that will leave two seats free for the rest of 
your party and the driver.” 

“ But I am afraid my boys will crowd you too 
much,” he objected politely. 

“ Kot in the least,” I returned. “ I shall like 
to have them here.” 

“But, father,” said the boy with the bright 
face, “ I must sit by you or the driver. I must 
see things. I can’t be shut up in there on that 
back seat.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said his father, a little impa- 
tiently. “ Here, in with you. Do n’t keep us 
waiting.” 

But my young hero still hung back. His face 
had clouded, and there was an ugly pout on his 
lips. He pushed the other boy forward a little. 
“ Let Frank sit there,” he said. “ I ’ll sit by the 
driver.” 

His father was about to insist with some firm- 
ness upon his young son’s obedience, when the 
lady interposed. 

“ O Francis, let him do as he pleases. Of 
course he can’t enjoy himself so well on the back 
seat. I think if the lady does not object, there 
will be room for Madge and Frank with her.” 

She looked at me inquiringly and, I thought, a 
little haughtily, which was perhaps her natural 
manner with every one. 

“ All right,” said the gentleman, after I had 
again assured them of the abundance of room on 


12 


A Misunderstood Hero 


the back seat, “ all right, but I am afraid we are 
giving in too much to our young man up there.” 

He glanced to the driver’s seat, where ‘‘ Eright- 
eyes,” as 1 had already dubbed him in my mind, 
sat aloft, with the smiles back on his face, his 
cap off, the fresh June air blowing about his 
sunny curls. 

“ Never mind, I like to see him happy,” said the 
lady, and she too glanced up at him fondly. 

“ Here, Madge,” said her father, “ it is your 
turn next.” 

“ No, father, put Frank in first. I want to sit 
in the corner where I can see something,” ob- 
jected Madge. “ Aunt Margaret, make Frank 
sit in the middle.” 

“ Here, Frank,” said Aunt Margaret, “ where 
are you? Lagging behind, as usual — never at 
hand when you ’re wanted,” she commented im- 
patiently. 

Frank, who had been standing a little way 
from the others, holding a small dog tightly in 
his arms and showing no interest whatever in 
the proceedings of the eager party about him, 
now came forward, with his head down and a 
sullen look on his face, called there, perhaps, by 
his aunt’s cross little speech. 

He gave one glance at the seat beside me, 
which showed as plainly as words could do, that 
it was no more acceptable to him than to any 
one else ; but he said nothing, and clambering up 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 13 

rather awkwardly with his father’s help, placed 
himself by my side, with the little dog still 
clasped in his arms. 

No one seemed to take any further notice of 
him. Madge was helped into the other corner, 
the lady and gentleman took their places, all the 
baskets and other traps were safely stowed away, 
and at last the driver cracked his whip. The 
genial proprietor, after having several times as- 
sured the lady called Aunt Margaret that the 
horses were safe, that the road was as good a 
one as ever was made, and that the driver knew 
every inch of it, started us off with a flourish of 
hand and hat and a cordial, “ Mornin’, mum, 
mornin’, sir. A pleasant trip, mum.” And 
away we went. 

We drove along quite comfortably for a mile 
or two until we turned from the highway and 
entered upon a narrow, winding road, with a 
great, green mountain looming up a little way 
ahead of us. The sun had been almost too warm 
until we came into this road, if road it could be 
called, which wound in and out among oaks and 
birches and chestnuts, with here and there a 
northern pine. On either side were waving 
sumacs and chinkapin bushes all in flower, 
while many little mountain rivulets glanced in 
the sunlight and sped among the ferns and mosses 
and low, creeping plants which grew close to the 
very horses’ feet. 


14 A Misunderstood Hero 

But I rode in too much fear and trembling to 
enjoy the beauties of this woodland journey. 
And so it was with the lady called Aunt Mar- 
garet. Again and again she admonished the 
driver to use more care when we came to the 
rougher parts of the road. 

“ You will certainly have us all over into this 
ditch,” she cried sharply to him once. “ Do look 
where you are going ! Mercy on us ! ” she ex- 
claimed, as the horses came stumbling out of a 
hole and mounted to a steep bank, to avoid what 
appeared to be another yawning chasm. 

For a moment we seemed in such peril that in- 
voluntarily we all screamed, and young “ Bright- 
eyes’ ” father called out to him sharply, “ Hold 
on up there, Philip, or you ’ll be oif in the ditch.” 
But in another second the horses reached the 
road again, the old wagon righted itself, and we 
could allow ourselves to breathe freely once more. 

“ Hold on, Philip,” said his father once more. 

“I am holding on, father,” sang out Philip. 
“ Do n’t you be afraid. It ’s jolly up here ! ” 

At this the little lame boy moved uneasily, as 
if he, too, would have enjoyed sitting aloft where 
it was so “ jolly,” and where he could have seen 
something besides his father’s broad shoulders 
and the back of his Aunt Margaret’s bonnet. 

He said nothing, however, but drew his dog, a 
small, bright-eyed fox-terrier, closer within his 
arms, as if to comfort it; for the little fellow 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 15 

was evidently smitten with terror at his unac- 
customed mode of traveling. 

Our good-natured old driver all along took 
great pains to assure us of the perfect safety of 
the road. Once when we came to an unusually 
bad spot he turned round in his seat to com- 
fort us. 

“ Doan ye be so feared, ladies, now doan ye,” 
he said. “ Dis hain’t nothin’, dis hain’t. Der ’s 
on’y one reely bad place on dis yer road, an’ dat ’s 
jes’ fo’ ye come ter de gulch, an’ I ’ll take ye troo 
dar all right. Doan ye be feared.” 

We came after wearisome climbing to that 
“ bad bit er road.” I have no words at my com- 
mand to describe what we thought it. I will 
only say that when our poor old coach, creaking 
in every joint, finally emerged from the last deep 
pit of slush and mire and stones to the dry and 
comparatively level road, no one remained within 
it save the driver, the little lame boy and myself. 
The gentleman had elected to walk, ostensibly to 
lighten the load ; Philip had also alighted for the 
sake of being with his father ; and the aunt and 
niece had preferred to pick their way around the 
mud puddles and clamber over rooks rather than 
risk life and limb in the coach with us. As for 
me, I could not, had I wished it, have scrambled 
over rock and bush and brier. ITor could my 
little lame companion. He sat silently by my 
side, holding his dog in his arms, stroking it 


i6 A Misunderstood Hero 

softly now and then, as if to give it courage. 1 
had not heard him speak until, in a worse jolt 
than usual, he said, almost in a whisper, to his 
little burden : 

“ Be good. Laddie. Do n’t be afraid ; I ’ll take 
care of you.” 

Once, when the coach gave a sudden lurch and 
threatened to pitch both boy and dog off the 
seat, I put my arm about the lad’s shoulders. 

“Let me hold you, my dear, while you hold 
your dog,” I said, “ for fear you may fall.” 

He looked up quickly, as if astonished, then 
flushing, hung his head down in an awkward way. 
He said nothing at first, but in a moment I heard 
the words “ Thank you,” spoken low, and after a 
little while I caught his astonished glance at my 
face again, though I could not tell why he should 
have seemed surprised at such a trifling act of 
kindness. 

“ Are you frightened, my dear ? ” I asked. 

“ Hot very much,” he answered, hesitatingly, 
as if too shy to talk. “Laddie is frightened, 
though,” he ventured after a little pause. 

“ Is he your dog ? ” I asked. 

“ Oh, no, he is Philip’s dog, but he stays with 
me.” 

“ He is a pretty little fellow,” I said, patting 
the dog’s head ; at which the boy seemed pleased 
and almost smiled. He said no more, however, 
nor did I, for the coach, just then having over- 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 17 

come the chief perils of the way, stopped to wait 
for the other passengers to get in. 

After this, the road proving quite smooth and 
the horses being able to trot on evenly and 
briskly, we all felt our troubles at an end. Our 
spirits rose accordingly, and I soon found myself 
conversing quite merrily with Madge, helped oc- 
casionally by a word from her father or aunt. 

“ And you are going to Glen Elsworth, too ? ” 
said Madge inquiringly. 

“Yes, indeed,” I answered. “Is that your 
destination also ? I supposed you must be going 
farther up the mountain to the hotel.” 

“ Oh, no,” she said, “ some of Aunt Margaret’s 
friends went to Glen Elsworth last summer, and 
they said it was so lovely there that we must go 
too. So now we ’re going, and to stay all sum- 
mer.” 

“ So am I,” I replied, pleased that I was not to 
lose sight of people in whom I was already so in- 
terested. 

“ I think,” said the gentleman, turning in his 
seat, “ that as we have already become somewhat 
acquainted in our long ride over the mountains, 
it will be quite the proper thing for us to intro- 
duce ourselves without delay. My name is Fran- 
cis Sinclair. This is my sister, Mrs. Archer, and 
my daughter Madge sits beside you.” 

“ And I ’m Philip,” broke in the boy on the 
driver’s seat. 


i8 A Misunderstood Hero 

“ Oh, yes, of course Philip is not to be left out,” 
laughed his father. 

“ My name is Agatha Poppelheimer,” I said, in 
my turn, “ and I shall be greatly pleased to make 
the better acquaintance of my fellow travelers 
and hope that we may have a happy summer to- 
gether.” 

This was a long speech for me to make, for I 
have always been somewhat shy with strangers. 
In this case I felt an additional nervousness at 
hearing a quickly suppressed titter from Madge’s 
corner when I mentioned my name. I know it 
is a singular one, but I am not ashamed of it. 
Perhaps there are reasons why, in my own quiet 
way, I may even be proud of it — at least of some 
who have borne it. However, that has nothing 
to do with my story. 

‘‘ You are thinking I have a funny name. Miss 
Madge,” I said with a smile. 

Madge blushed. “ Oh, I did not mean to ” 

she began and paused in confusion. 

“ Never mind, my dear,” I said reassuringly. 
“ You are not the first who has found it odd and 
‘ too much of a mouthful,’ as some one once 
said. You must do as all my friends do; call 
me Miss Agatha, if you will. That is what I 
like best.” 

“ I am sure I shall like that,” said Madge. 

“ This is your brother, too ? ” I said, placing 
my hand on the lame boy’s shoulder. 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 19 

“Oh, yes, that’s Frank,” said Madge rather 
carelessly. “ He and Philip are twins.” 

“ Is it possible ? ” I asked in astonishment, for 
he was so much smaller and different in every 
way. 

“Yes, they are twins, but they are not alike in 
anything. I wish they were. We think there is 
no one like Philip, Miss Agatha,” said Madge 
with an admiring glance at Philip, where he sat 
chattering away to the driver with his cap off 
and the wind blowing his curls about his face. 

I glanced suddenly down at Frank. His face 
was bent, but I could see a flush on his cheek, 
and when he lifted his head there was a frown 
on his brow and he looked cross and unhappy. I 
did not like to see such a look on a young lad’s 
face, and yet I could not wonder that his sister’s 
careless words had brought it there. 

“Look dar,” said the driver. “Dar is Glen 
Elsworth ober dar under de mountain wid de 
sunshine on it.” 

We all looked in the direction indicated by the 
driver’s whip, and saw, nestled under a great 
green mountain, with a velvety lawn stretching 
away on three sides of it, a large, old-time South- 
ern manor-house. The contrast of its bright 
white walls with the dark, waving oaks, chestnuts 
and other forest trees of the steep hill which 
seemed to loom up almost against it at the back, 
was very pleasing, and after the long journey 


20 


A Misunderstood Hero 


over the rough mountain roads, it seemed a very 
haven of peace. 

It was one o’clock when, tired and travel- 
stained, we alighted from our old coach and 
ascended the steps of the house to find its mis- 
tress standing at her door to welcome us. 

She was a tall, slight woman of middle age, 
with a pale face and a sad droop of the mouth ; 
but just now a hospitable smile lighted up her 
countenance, and she looked so sweet and bright 
that I felt my heart warm toward her at once. 

“ Come in,” she said, after the hand-shakes and 
the brief introductions were over. “ Come into 
the parlor and rest a bit before going to your 
rooms, for I know how tiresome you must have 
found that long ride.” 

But, weary as we were, we all preferred to 
seek our rooms at once, there to remove some of 
the traces of our journey before being ushered 
into the dining-room to meet the other guests, 
who, as Mrs. Dale informed us, had just sat down 
to dinner. 

Alone in my chamber, I looked about me with 
a sigh of thankfulness. This large, cool room 
was just suited to my mind, and I deemed it a 
pleasant promise of the rest and comfort the 
summer should bring. 

A glance from each of the windows showed 
mountains, mountains everywhere. Directly in 
front of the house, though perhaps a quarter of a 


21 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 

mile away, there ascended from Mrs. Dale’s lawn, 
by a gradual slope, an immense peak so high 
that, near though it must have been, the rounded 
top took on certain grayish-green and shadowy 
blue tints I should not have looked for at that 
distance. I could see the road along which we 
had come curving past the house, then among the 
trees, far up this mountain, until it reached the 
top. There in a broad clearing stood a large 
building all windows and verandas, with a flag 
waving from a tall cupola. This I knew must be 
the hotel of which I bad heard, and that the 
mountain was the Mount Eyre our coachman had 
mentioned in the morning. 

However, there was no time now to look at the 
lovely views about me. I hastened my toilet, 
and with such success that I was the first one in 
the parlor and had time for a brief chat with 
Mrs. Dale before Mrs. Archer and Madge, then 
Philip and Frank (the former with a bright, 
eager look on his face, the latter silent with eyes 
downcast, as usual) came in, followed by Mr. Sin- 
clair. 

Mrs. Dale now led the way to the dining-room. 
It is always an awkward moment with me when 
I have to enter a room full of people quite un- 
known to me ; but in this case there was nothing 
to trouble even the most timid person, for no 
one was there but a lady and a little boy two or 
three years old. Every one had gone except this 


22 


A Misunderstood Hero 


young mother, who sat waiting for her son to 
finish his dessert. 

She was a trim little woman with a pleasant 
face, and her boy might have been a pretty 
enough child if seen under more favorable 
circumstances. But just now, perhaps from the 
fact that he had already eaten as much as he 
wished, or that his dessert — a piece of some kind 
of juicy fruit pie — was not quite to his taste, 
he had apparently given up all attempts to bestow 
it where it properly belonged and was engaged 
in dabbling his hand in the juice and spreading 
it all over his cheeks and forehead and even his 
hair and ears. He was, in consequence, a fright- 
ful looking little object, and his mother, evi- 
dently feeling him to be so, started up hastily at 
our entrance, and seizing the child with such 
force as to knock over his high chair, turned and 
fled through the side door. 

Mrs. Dale apologized for the untimely flight of 
the lady and her little son. “ It is a Mrs. Todd 
from Philadelphia,” she said. “ Her husband is 
a naval officer who is just now absent on a voy- 
age. She is a sweet little lady, and J ohnny is a 
very sweet child, too, only he is perhaps rather 
spoiled by his mother and his aunts. They are 
her two sisters and are here with her to help in 
the care of her two boys. That is the other 
boy,” she added, as a merry, freckled face, sur- 
mounted by a mass of stiff, fiery hair, suddenly 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 23 

passed by the window, and glanced in curiously 
at Philip and Frank. All we could see was the 
head of this individual, but I thought it must be 
attached to a form of about Philip’s size, and 
later acquaintance proved me right. 

“ That is Kalph,” resumed Mrs. Dale ; “ a 
bright boy but a great rogue ; and the two 
children are quite a handful for little Mrs. Todd 
and her sisters, I assure you.” 

Here Kalph, who seemed to have important 
business which took him past the open window 
frequently, appeared again, and glancing about 
sharply with a pair of keen, gray eyes, suddenly 
singled out Philip from the rest of the party, and 
giving him a grin and a wink, vanished again. 

Philip grinned too over his dinner. Presently, 
he exclaimed with a sigh of satisfaction, as if a 
lingering doubt had just been dispelled : 

“ Well, this is something like ! I know now 
I ’m going to like Glen Elsworth.” 

We all laughed, and Mrs. Dale said : “Indeed, 
I hope so, my boy. I am sure it will not be 
Kalph’s fault if you do n’t, for he has been long- 
ing for your arrival ever since we got your 
father’s letter.” 

“ Come, Frank, hurry up ! ” urged Philip. “ I 
want to get out and see what the place is like.” 

“ What that boy is like, you mean,” said his 
father. 

Frank, who sat next to me, went on eating 


24 


A Misunderstood Hero 


his dinner in his usual silent manner, taking no 
notice of Philip’s remark. That young gentle- 
man suddenly pushed his chair from the table 
shouting, “ ’ Sense me, please,” to the world at 
large, and vanished from our sight, not heeding 
his aunt’s affectionate caution : “ Do be careful, 

my dearest, not to get lost in the woods.” 

The next moment she turned to Frank and said 
in a disgusted, injured tone : “ Frank, why cannot 
you sit up and try^ at least, to eat like a gentle- 
man ? Munching away with your nose in your 
plate ! You make me ashamed of you every day 
of your life.” 

Frank straightened himself up, and that slow 
flush of mortification and wounded pride accom- 
panied by the obstinate, sullen look which I had 
seen before, crept over his face. Though he 
said no word, I heard him draw in his breath 
quickly, as if something hurt him. 

For my part I could not wonder. It was true 
he seemed a child of gloomy, unhappy, even ugly 
disposition, judging from his appearance, but even 
if he had been the worst boy in the world, was 
this the treatment he should receive from those 
to whom he should have been the nearest and 
dearest ? Was it just to alter so quickly that 
soft, coaxing entreaty and the glance of loving 
pride which the aunt had given one brother to the 
harsh tone and look of contemptuous dislike 
with which she publicly corrected the other’s 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 25 

little fault, if fault it could be called ? He was 
very near-sighted, and had perhaps too carelessly 
fallen into an awkward posture, but I had noted 
his quiet, well-bred manner of eating, and to my 
mind there had been nothing to call for the open 
rebuke which his aunt had so cruelly adminis- 
tered before two strangers like Mrs. Dale and 
myself. 

My heart quite ached for the little fellow when 
I saw that he had stopped eating his pie, and now 
sat with his hand clenched in his lap and a scowl 
on his face. 

I could not refrain from placing my hand 
gently upon his shoulder and saying, “ I think 
we shall like Glen Elsworth, do n’t you, 
Frank ? ” 

He shrank from my touch, and glanced up at 
me as if I had been his worst enemy. 

“ It ’s no use. Miss Agatha,” whispered Madge 
on my other side ; “ nobody can do anything with 
him. We just have to let him alone.” 

Well, perhaps it was so; perhaps he was a 
hopelessly ill-tempered, obstinate boy, hating and 
hated by everybody, even those who should have 
been closest to him, and yet there was something 
about him which was beginning to rouse my 
sympathy. He was certainly very repellent in 
his attitude when I tried to be kind, and looked 
as if his heart were full of hatred ; yet I remem- 
bered how tender he had been toward his little 


26 


A Misunderstood Hero 


dog in the coach. I was sure his Aunt Margaret 
had been far from kind to him just now. 

However, I remembered that I must not 
attempt to judge my neighbors on such short 
acquaintance. Nevertheless, as we rose from 
the table, I resolved that I would be as kind to 
my strange little table-mate as he would permit 
me to be, and I hoped that in some way I might 
help to make a happier look come into his 
face. 

Directly after dinner Mrs. Dale led us out to 
the broad porch, where was waiting a young girl 
with an eager, expectant look, as if she, like the 
boy who had passed the window so often, were 
curious concerning the new boarders. This was 
Gertrude, Mrs. Dale’s onl}’^ daughter, a graceful 
girl with a sweet face like her mother’s. She 
was about Madge’s age, and I was sure — of what 
actually came to pass — that in a few days they 
would become inseparable companions. 

Well up the mountain in front of us, upon the 
winding road I have already mentioned as lead- 
ing to the hotel, we could descry two small 
forms already walking close together, and were 
thus assured that Philip and the boy with 
the twinkling eyes and the red locks had not 
waited for an hour to elapse before becoming as 
familiar as if they had known each other all their 
lives. 

They seemed to be pairing off very naturally, 


The Meeting at Glen Els worth 27 

Madge and Gertrude, Philip and Kalph; but 
where was there a mate for Frank ? 

I looked about for him, but he was not on the 
porch, and I had not observed him when we left 
the dining-room. 

“ Where is your brother Frank, Miss Madge ? ” 
I asked. “ He did not go with Philip, it appears.” 

“ Oh, no, they never are together much,” she 
said carelessly. “ Frank can't walk fast, and 
Philip does n’t like to keep back for him. I do n’t 
myself,” she added. ‘‘It’s dreadfully tiresome 
to wait for Frank when we want to go any- 
where. So he just stays by himself. Ho one 
pays any attention to what he does, Miss Agatha ; 
he just amuses himself.” 

Well, if he could amuse himself perhaps it was 
all right, but it seemed a lonely way for a child 
to live. 

That evening at the supper-table we met Mrs. 
Todd, apparently for the first time ; also her son 
Johnny in beautiful white array, with the loveliest 
reddish gold curls, the fairest skin, the rosiest 
cheeks and the pearliest little teeth in the world 
— a very cherub of a boy, looking like a perfect 
angel, as Madge confided to me. Ho one could 
have imagined that the frightful, bloody-looking 
little monster we had seen at dinner and this 
beautiful child could be one and the same. 

Mrs. Todd’s two maiden sisters, both con- 
siderably older than herself, were grouped near 


28 


A Misunderstood Hero 


her and Johnny, to whom, it was plainly to be 
seen, their whole attention, at the table at least, 
was given. We had been at supper only a few 
moments when we all agreed that it was impera- 
tive that he should have it. 

I have seen many spoiled children in my life, 
but I never saw one like Johnny Todd. He 
could not have been more than three years old, 
but already his sway over his relatives was 
absolute. When J ohnny ’s arm with its clenched 
fist fiew up, and the little foot came down hard 
on the round of his high chair, and the rosebud 
mouth opened for a prolonged roar, Johnny got 
everything on the table that he wanted, whether 
it was rich cake and preserves, or catsup in his 
bread and milk. And all around him glasses 
jingled, dishes clicked and spoons thumped the 
table, the poor little mild aunties and the patient 
mother trying to deaden the noise and quiet the 
young tyrant as best they might. 

But in spite of everything Johnny was such a 
pretty boy, with ways sometimes so winning and 
loving, that no one could help liking him. Be- 
fore we had known him a week we were almost 
as devoted to him as his mother and aunts, ex- 
cept Mrs. Archer, who could never tolerate mis- 
conduct at the table, of all places, and Mr. Sin- 
clair, who looked upon him, apparently, as 
belonging to some species of animal far removed 
from human beings. 


The Meeting at Glen Elsworth 29 

At supper we also met for the first time Mrs. 
Dale’s son, John, a young man of twenty-two, 
with a strong face and clear gray eyes, who 
presided at the table with much dignity and ease 
for so young a person. 

It was a real relief to me to find that these 
were all the strangers we had to meet, as Mrs. 
Dale expected to receive no other guests during 
the summer. 

It was June and the days were long. After 
supper, we elders sat out on the lawn until the 
sun had set and the stars came out, resting from 
our rough journey and gradually becoming 
better acquainted as we watched Johnny’s gam- 
bols on the grass. Finally, when that young 
gentleman had been coaxed to bed by promises 
of “ something good ” from each of the sisters, 
we still sat watching the stars and listening to a 
belated wood-thrush singing in the wood behind 
us. Madge and Gertrude were in a hammock 
chatting quietly together. We could hear the 
voices of Philip and Kalph up in the mountain 
on our right. But I saw nothing of Frank, and 
no one else seemed to miss him. After a time 
my eye fell on a certain large stump, which had 
been converted into a comfortable seat and placed 
under a locust near the corner of the house. 
There I could just discern the little form of 
Frank. He was sitting very quietly holding his 
sleeping dog in his arms and looking up into the 


30 


A Misunderstood Hero 


woods where now and then Philip and Ealph 
could be seen playing among the trees. 

Again I felt a pang of pity pass through my 
heart. He seemed lonely and forlorn sitting 
there with only his little dog for a companion. 


CHAPTEE II 


EALPH, HIS DOINGS AND MISDOINGS 

We had not been many days at Glen Els worth 
before becoming acquainted with the history not 
only of its mistress, but of her ancestors as well. 
It was Mrs. Dale’s great-grandfather who had 
planned and built the house, selecting its site 
with taste and wisdom, laying out the lawn with 
shrubs the descendants of which still bloomed 
for us in masses of great white snowballs, of 
gorgeous peonies and fragrant honeysuckles and 
roses. It was his hand, too, which had planted 
the tender saplings now standing about us as 
great oaks and tulip trees, with here and there a 
sturdy chestnut or towering poplar. 

In the dining-room was a faded portrait of this 
fine old Southern gentleman, and when I looked 
into his kindly face I felt that I should like to 
take him by the hand and thank him for all he 
had done for lovely Glen Elsworth ; for had not 
I, as well as his own immediate posterity, been 
made rich by the presence of the comfort and 
beauty he had created ? I must not linger to speak 
of the changes which had taken place in this once 
rich and flourishing family before what remained 

31 


A Misunderstood Hero 


32 

of all its wealth and lands fell to this one, slender 
woman, who now, in her quiet, dignified way, 
made us welcome to her pleasant home. It was 
evident that though what was left to her of land 
and stock furnished a modest living, there was 
little ready money, and no doubt it was a happy 
thought which had prompted her to open the 
house to boarders. 

After the death of her husband she had 
carried on her farm herself, with the counsel 
she could obtain from friends and trusted serv- 
ants, until her son had grown into a young man 
strong and willing to lift the burdens from 
her shoulders, and every one could see how 
anxious he was to shield his mother from every 
care. 

Gertrude, also, by her gentle, womanly ways 
and sweet, thoughtful face, gave promise of be- 
coming in her turn a prop and comfort to her 
mother as the years should pass. 

We saw little of either Gertrude or Madge 
during the first days of our stay. The wild roses 
were in full bloom and beautiful clumps of laurel 
and rhododendrons were still to be had for the 
seeking, and these young girls thought nothing 
of clambering about the mountains in search of 
the finest bunches with which to fill all the vases 
and bowls, and even old, cracked pitchers, which 
the house afforded ; meanwhile telling each other 
their dearest secrets and vowing that undying 


Ralph, His Doings and Misdoings 33 

friendship which goes on from girlhood to old 
age — a vow which sometimes is fulfilled. 

As for us older people, much of our time dur- 
ing those lovely June days was spent on the 
lawn in wicker chairs or hammocks, chatting, 
knitting or reading the time away, after the man- 
ner of idle summer folk with nothing to do but 
give themselves up to the enjoyment “ of earth 
and air and running brook and flower.” 

Mr. Sinclair was an exception. Of him we saw 
little, for he was a lawyer, come by his physician’s 
orders to this quiet retreat for a long summer’s 
rest. Like an obedient patient he was already 
spending his days roaming about with gun on 
shoulder, or lying on his back in some shady 
place with his hat over his eyes. He was evi- 
dently a kindly disposed man, reserved even with 
his children, though always thoughtful for their 
welfare and affectionate, even indulgent, in his 
manner toward them. At times I saw a pleased 
smile at some of Madge’s pretty, saucy ways, or 
a look of pride as he glanced at Philip’s bright 
beauty. However, I never knew him to notice 
or even speak to Frank, except to add his reproof 
to that of his sister when the boy had been so un- 
fortunate as to displease her. 

From the first day Philip and Ralph had been 
inseparable companions. Ralph, having been 
upon the ground two weeks earlier, was able to 
act as guide in their adventures. They fished, 


A Misunderstood Hero 


34 

hunted for chipmunks and squirrels, made dams 
and bridges, sailed paper boats, built little stone 
huts and tumbled them down again, climbed 
trees, scrambled about on old fallen logs, ran and 
raced and screamed and hallooed from morning 
till night, as boys like to do in such places. 

At first, as I have said, Ralph led the way in 
all their expeditions, but soon it was Philip who 
took command, and Ralph, abandoning ail his 
former modes of amusing himself, eagerly and 
joyously followed the lead of his new comrade 
wherever the whims and fancies of the latter 
might take them. 

Why this should have been I cannot tell ; for 
Ralph was very bright himself and had thus far 
proved only too full of ingenious devices for 
whiling away his time, but he yielded to the in- 
fluence of the beautiful boy, who was like a 
young king in his imperious ways and seemed to 
hold his sway over his new-found friend as he had 
done in a certain measure over his own people all 
his life. 

There was one person who looked on this com- 
radeship with approving eyes, and that was Mrs. 
Dale, who confided to me the anxieties she had 
experienced on account of her fiery-haired young 
boarder, during the two weeks preceding our 
arrival. 

It appeared that from the day on which his 
mother, his two aunts, with himself and little 


Ralph, His Doings and Misdoings 35 

Johnny, had been set down at her door, there 
had been scarcely an hour when poor Mrs. Dale 
had not had him on her mind, except when she 
had known him to be safe in his bed. 

He had never seen many colored people, and 
naturally his curiosity was much excited by 
them. He was especially interested in Aunt 
Mirny, the cook. She was an old fat “ aunty,” 
who was either laughing or scolding all the time. 
She wore a turban and large imitation gold ear- 
rings. She waddled about her kitchen sometimes 
barefoot and sometimes in old carpet slippers 
which shuilied loudly when she walked. Ralph 
became quite engrossed in his study of this old 
black woman and spent as much time in the 
kitchen or about the door-stone as she would per- 
mit. 

However, after the first formalities had worn 
off, and he had become so familiar as to attempt 
certain little practical jokes, such as tying her 
fast to her chair by her apron-strings, hiding her 
spectacles, or perhaps putting a caterpillar down 
her back. Aunt Mirny would suddenly turn upon 
him in great wrath, and threatening him with a 
rolling-pin, ladle or whatever she might have at 
hand, would order him out of her domain at the 
top of her voice. 

“Clar out’n my kitchen,” she would shout. 
“ Clar out’n my kitchen, you good-for-not’in’ little 
redhead, an’ don’ you come neah dat do’ no mo’. 


A Misunderstood Hero 


36 

Don’ you let me cotch you cuttin’ up dat-away 
no mo’. Out’n de way ’fo’ I sen’ de rollin’-pin 
flyin’ out’n dat do’ arter yuh. Clar out ! ” 

Kalph would fly off as fast as his feet could 
carry him, shouting with delight, for it was great 
fun for him, and he knew Aunt Mirny’s wrath 
was half assumed. 

But there had come a day, just before our 
arrival, when the naughty boy had seriously 
offended her. She had borne with all his teas- 
ing and mischief-making in her usual merry, 
scolding way ; she had even forgiven him when 
one morning he had poured some vinegar into a 
pot of steaming hot coffee just before she carried 
it to the breakfast-table ; but when he had gone 
so far as to cut off the braided pigtails of her 
little granddaughter, who was the dearest object 
in the world to her, that was indeed beyond all 
forgiveness. After that cruel act, she never saw 
Master Kalph coming near the kitchen without 
screaming to him to “ clar out ! ” And she kept 
a great iron spoon close at hand with which 
to warn him off, exactly as she “ shooed ” away 
the hens and chickens which came about the 
door. 

I confess I was obliged to smile at the idea of 
the naughty boy swooping down upon the little 
black maiden and despoiling her of her precious 
woolly braids. Still, of course, it was very wrong 
in him, and it was no great wonder that it had 



** Clar out’n my kitchen ” 






Ralph, His Doings and Misdoings 37 

proved anything but a laughing matter to Aunt 
Mirny, whose heart was bound up in this child 
and her brother, a year or two older, for they 
had been left to her care by a daughter no longer 
living. 

My attention had already been attracted to 
these children, partly because of their intelligent, 
shiny black faces and partly because of their sin- 
gular names. Their mother, like most of her 
race, had admired high-sounding titles and had 
given them the romantic names of St. Clair and 
Cynthia. The latter had been called “ Cynth,” 
or “ Cyn,” but the boy had always gone by his 
full name of St. Clair, till some boarder, a year 
or two before, had conceived the happy idea of 
renaming them Saint ” and “ Sinner.” Since 
the boy was a gentle little fellow, who never 
thought of doing wrong or getting into mischief 
except where his harum-scarum sister, a little 
imp of naughtiness, led the way, everybody had 
at once recognized the fitness of these nicknames, 
and now the children were never called anything 
else except by their fond grandmother, who still 
clung to St. Clar and Cynth as she had always 
done. 

But I am wandering too far from our young 
friend Ralph. When Mrs. Dale had finished the 
recital of his doings and misdoings, she said with 
a rueful look and yet with a smile too : “ Now 
come with me, and I will show you Ralph’s very 


A Misunderstood Hero 


38 

latest piece of mischief, which I discovered only 
this morning.” 

She led me across the lawn and past the house 
to a large stone almost square, but somewhat 
higher than it was broad, which served as part 
of the garden fence, and as somebody had long 
ago trained pretty vines about its top and sides, 
it was really quite an ornamental feature of that 
portion of the grounds, which was kept as daintily 
neat and attractive as were the more public parts 
of the lawn. Upon the broad, flat face of this 
stone which stood directly in front of the kitchen 
window where Aunt Mirny could not fail to see 
it a hundred times a day, was a rudely drawn 
but very comical picture of Aunt Mirny her- 
self, with her great spoon raised above her 
head, her thick lips — represented thicker, even, 
than was natural — opened, as if giving forth a 
frightful yell, her feet in their enormous slip- 
pers unduly prominent as she appeared in the 
act of madly rushing after somebody of whom 
nothing could be seen but one foot and a slim 
leg disappearing round the corner of the stone. 
There had evidently been no room to portray 
more of this latter individual, for Aunt Mirny’s 
figure was so large as to take up nearly the 
whole of the stone, except a small space occupied 
by a little pickaninny who was represented as 
crouching at her feet with a “ pigtail ” in either 
hand, two or three flying about in the air near 


Ralph, His Doings and Misdoings 39 

her and a sole remaining one in the place where 
it ought to be — on the top of her head. Tears 
of immense size were falling from this little 
damsel’s eyes and the most horrified expression 
was on her face, as she gazed at a large pair of 
shears which had apparently just landed at her 
feet. 

An old milking-stool from the barn had en- 
abled the artist to reach high enough to do jus- 
tice to Aunt Mirny’s turban, and the remains of 
a pot of green paint stood beside it, while a 
small brush, hastily thrown down, revealed the 
instrument which had been used in creating this 
wonderful work of art. 

It was a really funny picture, like a hideous, 
magnified comic valentine, and the worst of it 
was that it looked so much like Aunt Mirny and 
“ Sinner ” too, that it would have been impossi- 
ble to mistake them. We did not dare to laugh, 
however, for Aunt Mirny sat at her kitchen 
window with her pipe in her mouth, gazing at it 
with outward calmness, but inwardly, I sus- 
pected, boiling with wrath at the young enemy 
who would probably have found it unwise to ap- 
proach her just then. Luckily, he was at a safe 
distance, in some mountain retreat with his new 
friend Philip. 

Mrs. Dale felt unhappy over her ruined stone. 
“ The paint is quite dry,” she said. “ It must 
have been done some time when Aunt Mirny was 


40 


A Misunderstood Hero 


away in the village. We must try to remove it, 
though it will be a good deal of trouble. How- 
ever, I hope that this is the last of Ralph’s 
naughty capers ; he has become so devoted to 
Philip, and Philip seems such a charming boy. 
Do you not find him so. Miss Agatha ? His aunt 
assures me that he is as good as he looks, the 
soul of truth and honor, and the sweetest-tem- 
pered boy she has ever seen. She is sure he will 
have a good infiuence over Ralph.” 

It was true that Philip was a charming boy, 
with a frank look on his bright face and the 
sweetest smile in the world, and yet, why did a 
sudden remembrance come across my mind of 
that first morning when I had seen the frown on 
his brow and the pout on his lip, as he so emphat- 
ically insisted that he must sit on the front seat 
in the coach ? At least it could not be said that 
he was wholly unselfish. 

‘‘ He is certainly an attractive child,” I said, 
“ but I find myself more interested in his brother, 
the poor little lame boy.” 

“ What ! that boy ? ” exclaimed Mrs. Dale, in 
surprise. “What can you see in that strange, 
sullen-faced boy? I have never known such a 
singular child. I cannot understand how the two 
can be brothers, and twins at that. He seems so 
ill-natured and unhappy, shunning and shunned 
by every one, even his own people.” 

I acknowledged that there was something 


Ralph, His Doings and Misdoings 41 

strange about him. Still I thought there must 
be more good in him than she supposed. I 
remembered how only the day before I had 
witnessed a little scene which showed the boy 
in quite a new light, and strengthened my 
conviction that he could be kind, and even gentle 
and tender, when he liked. 

I had been sitting in my room where I could 
see Philip and Ralph swinging each other in the 
old swing just opposite the window. Johnny had 
come up and begged them to swing him, too, but 
they, not wishing to be bothered with the little 
fellow, suddenly discovered that they did not 
care for that kind of sport any longer, so, care- 
lessly telling Johnny to “go to mamma ” they 
scampered off among the trees, leaving him alone, 
very indignant, and screaming at the top of his 
healthy young lungs. 

They had been gone a minute or two, when 
whom should I see appear round the corner of 
the house but Frank. He glanced rather hesitat- 
ingly at J ohnny and then all round the grounds, 
as if to see whether any one else was near. 
Finding the coast quite clear, he went up to the 
child and holding out his hand said something to 
him with a shy but pleasant smile. Presently I 
saw Johnny in the swing, and Frank swinging 
him as hard as he could, with a happier look on 
his face than I had ever seen there before, while 
Johnny fairly shouted with glee, his curls tossing 


42 


A Misunderstood Hero 


back and forth in the keen breeze, his eyes 
dancing and his cheeks glowing. 

By and by, when he was tired of swinging, 
Frank lifted him carefully to the ground, and to- 
gether the two walked to the old stump I have 
mentioned before. There Frank sat down and 
took his new little friend onto his lap. 

They played quite merrily for a time, and 
J ohnny’s gleeful laugh rang out as he took Frank’s 
glasses off and placed them on his own nose, 
while Frank looked for the moment like any other 
boy, careless and happy. Finally Johnny settled 
down quietly, and I guessed from the attentive way 
in which he looked up in his new friend’s face that 
Frank was telling him some pleasing story. Sud- 
denly, however, in the midst of it, Frank started, 
and hastily setting Johnny on the ground, limped 
away as fast as he could past my window, the old 
sullen look on his face, leaving Johnny looking 
after him in amazement. Then I saw that Mrs. 
Archer and Johnny’s mother had just stepped off 
the porch and were coming toward the little 
fellow. 

This little episode returned to my mind as I 
listened to Mrs. Dale, and while I wished to think 
that Philip was indeed as good and worthy as she 
believed him to be, yet I could not wholly agree 
with her in her estimate of his brother. 


CHAPTER III 


MISS AGATHA LEARNS MORE ABOUT THE 
SINCLAIR FAMILY 

I WOULD not have it supposed that I did not 
share in the liking and admiration which every 
one about me felt for Philip Sinclair. From the 
very first I had been drawn toward the boy with 
his sunshiny face and quick, bright smile. He 
had a way of sitting down beside one and pour- 
ing out his whole eager little heart in the mer- 
riest chatter, looking up into one’s face, mean- 
time, with an unquestioning faith in an answer- 
ing sympathy which was quite irresistible. 
When he confided to me some of the wonderful 
things he should certainly do when he became a 
man, or related certain strange and startling ad- 
ventures which he had met with, even in the 
course of his short life, I enjoyed it all nearly as 
much as the little narrator himself. 

Perhaps there was even a degree of vain pleas- 
ure in the thought that so young a boy should 
be willing to spend so many moments chatting in 
his light-hearted way with an old woman like 
me. Hot that there was anything in that to 
boast of, for Philip was eager to make friends 
43 


44 A Misunderstood Hero 

with everybody about him. I think there was 
no one on the farm with whom he came in con- 
tact during those first days, whom he could not 
count among his friends. As for his own peo- 
ple, I have already spoken of his father’s pride 
in his young son, of how his grave face bright- 
ened as he watched him at his eager play or 
listened to the merry jokes and stories with 
which Philip constantly enlivened us all. 

It was evident, too, that the heart of his aunt 
was quite bound up in her nephew. She could 
scarcely have loved him more if she had been his 
mother. What puzzled me was the fact that all 
this wealth of affection should have been given 
to Philip alone. One would have supposed that, 
coming into the family as she had done in the 
early days of her widowhood, at the time when 
the children’s mother had died, and they had been 
left to her charge, little twin brothers of three 
years of age, she would naturally have felt the 
same degree of love for both. But it was plain 
that for the lame brother she entertained a dis- 
like amounting to aversion. 

The fact that Madge seemed also to hold a 
place in her heart with Philip, though in a lesser 
degree, rendered the contrast of her bitter feel- 
ing for Frank all the more noticeable. Her af- 
fection for Madge appeared sincere, though 
manifested in a somewhat cold and dignified 
manner, and her niece returned it with that 


The Sinclair Family 45 

warm-hearted, admiring love, mingled with a lit- 
tle awe, which a cold and stately woman often 
inspires in young girls’ hearts. Madge looked 
upon her Aunt Margaret as embodying all the 
graces of mind and person. She admired her 
brilliant intellect, her distinguished form and 
handsome face, and frankly confided to me her 
intention of making herself as much like her as 
she could. 

“ Do n’t you think she is one of the most beau- 
tiful women you ever knew. Miss Agatha?” she 
asked of me, enthusiastically. “And isn’t it 
just lovel}^ to hear her talk ? ” 

No doubt the lady was a gifted conversation- 
alist and naturally took pleasure in exercising 
her talent. Perhaps, also, she might be called a 
beautiful woman, but her lips, though finely 
formed, were too tightly compressed at times, 
and there was often too steely a glitter in her 
light blue eyes to please me. 

Privately, I rejoiced to think that though 
Madge might try as much as she liked to re- 
semble her aunt, she never could succeed in doing 
so. She was a gay little rosebud of a maiden, 
with merry, impetuous, kind-hearted ways which 
I did not believe could ever be repressed into the 
cold haughtiness of the woman she looked up to 
with such girlish admiration. 

But I was speaking of Mrs. Archer’s love for 
Philip, which showed itself in all she said and 


A Misunderstood Hero 


46 

did. To her, he was the one perfect child in the 
world ; she could see no flaw in him. I, too, ad- 
mired him, as I have said, and looked with pleas- 
ure upon his sturdy form, ros}^ face, bright blue 
eyes and clustering curls, but all the time some- 
thing sent a pang of pity through my heart for 
that other boy, for whom his aunt had no word 
of affection ; for whom his father, even, had no 
look except one of cold disapproval; whom 
Madge, with all her genial ways and kindly feel- 
ing for the rest of us, treated with complete in- 
difference. I could scarcely tell why I should 
have this tender thought in my mind for one who 
in an obstinate and sullen fashion had thus far 
repulsed all my little attempts to become better 
acquainted. But the feeling was there, and re- 
mained with me. 

I was more than ever conscious of this feeling 
when, on a certain rainy evening, we were all 
assembled in the long parlor of which I have al- 
ready spoken, about a little Are of hickory wood, 
entertaining each other as best we could, and the 
children were with us. Johnny’s fond mother 
and aunties had been coaxing him to show off some 
of his accomplishments. He had sung a song or 
two, and had given us imitations of certain char- 
acters. Kalph Todd, who had a sweet little 
voice, sang two or three songs, and then Mrs. 
Archer said, with what was for her some en- 
thusiasm : 


47 


The Sinclair Family 

“ And now you must hear Philip recite.’’ 

‘‘ Oh, yes,” said Madge, “ Philip does recite so 
beautifully.” 

“Come, my dear,” said Philip’s aunt, “don’t 
be shy, love. Francis, listen ! Philip is going to 
recite for us. Come, dear, let it be Paul Revere’s 
Ride. Do n’t be shy, dear.” 

Philip left his seat and came and stood before 
us, with a pleased smile. His fond aunt had no 
need to fear his shyness. I felt almost pained by 
that smile of Philip’s. It seemed a flaw in our 
bright little diamond which I had not expected to 
find. However, I forgot it the next moment when 
he stood before us in a graceful position, having 
first made a low bow, and at once started with : 

“ Listen, my children, and you shall hear 
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.’’ 

He recited it well, and it was evident that to 
his Aunt Margaret and Madge and to his father, 
who gazed upon him with a pride he could not 
conceal, there was something deeper than mere 
pleasure in the feeling with which they watched 
the brilliant boy who was the idol of their 
hearts. 

Frank had changed his seat when his brother 
began to speak, and was now sitting on a stool in 
the corner next to me and very near to Philip. 
I saw him look up at Philip with a really happy 
expression on his face, an eager, proud look shin- 


A Misunderstood Hero 


48 

ing in his eyes, even through his glasses, as if his 
heart, too, were full of admiring love for the 
young orator. Once when Philip was in the 
middle of the long poem, he made a slight halt ; 
his voice faltered just a moment. Suddenly, 
from the stool at my side came the missing word 
spoken low and distinctly, and Philip, with a 
look of relief, went triumphantly on, while Frank 
drew a long breath, as though he were glad that no 
failure had come. Once again came the momen- 
tary pause, and I saw Philip glance swiftly at his 
brother. Again the lost word came almost at 
the second it was needed, and Philip went on, 
hiding the sudden lapse so skilfully that probably 
no one but myself, sitting so near, could have 
told that there was a halt. 

Philip sat down, receiving his reward in de- 
lighted praise from all his new friends and in 
loving words from his aunt and a kind pat on 
the head from his proud father. The boy looked 
as if he were quite as pleased as anybody. In- 
deed, I began to fear they were all spoiling 
him. 

The children had now all exhibited themselves 
except Frank. Judging from the fact that he 
had been able to help Philip out of his little 
difficulties so successfully, I naturally supposed 
that here was one thing he could do probably as 
well as his brother. I longed to see the lonely 
boy stand up and take his share in the entertain- 


49 


The Sinclair Family 

ment, if only to give me the chance to say a word 
of praise to him who had so few kind words from 
anybody. So I said : 

“And you, too, Frank, can recite, I believe. 
Let us hear you, my dear.’’ 

Frank glanced up at me with an astonished 

look, as if he thought I must be crazy to dream 
of such a thing, then hung his head, scowling and 
silent as usual. Philip’s clear laugh rang out, as 
he said, 

“ O Miss Agatha, what an idea ! Frank 
could n’t recite anything any more than he could 
fly to the moon. He ’d break down before he ’d 
got through two lines.” 

Madge, as if for once she had noticed and felt 
sorry for the embarrassment poor Frank showed, 
with the red flush mounting to his forehead and 
his hands clenched in his shame and distress, said, 
with kindly intention, “Philip, don’t laugh at 
poor Frank, just because he can’t do what you 
can. He can’t help it. People don’t make 
themselves.” 

And then Mrs. Archer gave a loud sigh and a 
look of angry scorn at the suffering Frank, as she 
said : “ No, they do n’t make themselves, but at 
least they may do what they can to improve 
themselves after they are made, and sit in an 
erect posture and assume a fitting expression 
when they are in the presence of ladies and gen- 
tlemen.” 


50 


A Misunderstood Hero 


At this Frank started up and plunged headlong 
to the door, rushing off, I knew not where, but I 
feared he was not quick enough to escape the 
crudest cut of all, to hear his father sadly say, 

“ Alas, poor Frank ! I am afraid he will never 
do much for the name of Sinclair. He has my 
own name, too.” 

“Yes. If we could only have changed the 
names when we saw how different the two chil- 
dren were! But of course it was too late for 
that,” sighed Mrs. Archer. 

And all this took place before Madge and 
Philip and the rest of us ! At the thought of 
that poor, neglected, wretched child, that wronged 
and cruelly treated boy, who but this moment 
had fled from the room to nurse his wrongs in 
sullen, bitter silence, I felt roused and angry. I 
could not remain there longer. If I could only 
find the child and do or say something to com- 
fort him ! But he was nowhere to be seen, and 
at last I retired to my room, and lay awake, try- 
ing to devise some means by which to help him 
and make him understand that I would be his 
friend. 

The next day I resolved to try to learn more 
regarding the t\^ brothers and, to that end, put 
some questions to Madge, as we sat together on 
the porch in the morning. 

“ Why do you all treat your brother Frank so 
strangely, my dear?” I asked. “You cannot 


The Sinclair Family 51 

wonder that I notice the difference you make be- 
tween Philip and him.” 

Madge looked a little thoughtful as she re^ 
plied : “ Yes, Miss Agatha, I suppose it does 

strike strangers so, though we never think any- 
thing about it. You see he has always been 
such a strange child. He has always seemed to 
want to be by himself, and he grows worse and 
worse as he gets older. You must see how he 
acts whenever you speak to him so kindly as you 
do, and he is just so with everybody. When any 
one comes to our house he hides out of sight if he 
can, and won’t speak a word if he can help it. He 
behaves in such a way that sometimes I think peo- 
ple will believe he is actually foolish. I know it 
mortifies Aunt Margaret so she can hardly en- 
dure it. She does like fine-looking and well-ap- 
pearing people ; and you see how awkward and 
plain Frank is, by the side of Philip. It is very 
hard on us all to have Frank such a queer, ugly- 
looking boy,” said Madge, with a sigh. “ I am 
always ashamed when strangers see him, for fear 
they may think he is half-witted or something, 
though of course that is n’t so.” 

“ Of course not, my dear,” I exclaimed, shocked 
that she should even think of such a harsh thing. 
“ There is nothing of that kind the matter, as any 
one can see. Why should he not be as bright 
and attractive as Philip, if it were not for some- 
thing that is all wrong — I do n’t know what ? ” 


52 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“Like Philip? Oh, how could he, Miss 
Agatha ? Why, just look at him ! He ’s lame to 
begin with, and his near-sightedness makes him 
so awkward. And it isn’t only in looks. He 
never can do anything at school. Their teachers 
are always praising everything Philip does, and 
though they do n’t tell us so, I know they think 
that Frank can’t learn well. Mr. Morrison told 
father last month that Frank seemed to study as 
hard as any one, but when he came to his recita- 
tions he could do nothing at all.” 

“ Has it always been this way ? ” I asked. 
“Was he so strange when he was a little 
child?” 

“Ho, I do n’t think he was quite so bad when 
he was little. I can recall, now that I think of 
it, that he was just as bright and merry as Philip 
when my mother was living, and I remember 
how he used to clamber up in her arms and laugh 
at me when I played wild animals with him and 
pretended to be coming to eat him.” Madge 
smiled as she thought of this incident of their 
childhood. “He was lame from his birth and 
near-sighted, too, though of course we didn’t 
notice it so much then. But because he was lame 
he was with mother more, and I remember one 
day when father told her she loved Frank best, 
she smiled and said, ‘ Ho, not more than Philip. 
They are equally dear, but Frank will need me 
more, and I have a different feeling for him.’ 


The Sinclair Family 53 

Then she kissed little Frank, and said he was 
more sensitive than Philip, and would need tender 
care; and I remember, too, that she sighed. I 
wonder,” added Madge, with a little mistiness 
about her eyes, “ if mother thought then that she 
would not live very long. I do n’t know why I 
should have thought of it all to-day ; I never have 
before. It comes back to me as plainly as if it 
were yesterday, and I can see just how she 
looked, and how little Frank glanced up at her 
and put his arms round her neck, as if he knew 
all she was saying. He was a loving little fellow 
then, but he has grown up so different, and now 
all he wants is to keep away from everybody and 
have nothing to say to or do with us.” 

“ Can the children remember their mother at 
all?” 

“ Oh, no ! At least I do not think so, although 
Frank has always insisted that he remembers 
her, and how one day she held him in her arms 
and looked into his eyes and called him her dar- 
ling. But I do n’t suppose he really does, for 
they were not quite three when she died, and 
Philip, who is so much brighter, does not re- 
member her at all.” 

“And after your mother’s death your aunt 
came to live with you ? ” 

“Yes, Aunt Margaret came then, beautiful 
Aunt Margaret ! And she has been kind to us, so 
that we have not missed our mother as we should 


54 


A Misunderstood Hero 


have done. Philip and I both love Aunt Mar- 
garet, and she loves us, but I think Frank hates 
her. Miss Agatha, and he mortifies and annoys 
her by the way he looks and acts, and does n’t 
try to please her. It is no wonder that she can- 
not care much for him.” 

Here Mrs. Archer appeared on the porch, and 
learning the subject of our conversation, she, too, 
favored me with her views of her singular 
nephew. I was glad that Madge, seeing Ger- 
trude Dale coming up the road with a basket on 
her arm, left us at this point, and ran down the 
steps to meet her, for I should not have liked her 
to hear her aunt’s unkind remarks upon poor 
Frank’s strange habits. 

“Yes, it is true,” she said, “ that he is stupid, 
dull, obstinate, sullen, and to me almost unen- 
durable. While he is not, of course, feeble- 
minded, he might as well be for all the good he 
will ever be to himself or any one else. It is his 
father’s greatest trial that his own son, and his 
namesake at that, should be so inferior in every 
respect. If you have observed it. Miss Poppel- 
heimer, he rarely looks at, or speaks to Frank. I 
think he tries to forget his existence as much as 
possible.” 

“ But is that right ? ” I asked. “ He is his own 
child. Can a father ” 

She interrupted me. “ Yes, he is his own 
child, but such a child ! And his father has done 


55 


The Sinclair Family 

everything for him that he could. He has always 
had everything that Philip has had. Whatever 
gifts or pleasures have been given to Philip have 
been given to Frank also, when he would take 
them. Their clothes, their books, their play- 
things, all their surroundings, have always been 
the same, and yet you can see for yourself what 
it has all come to. You know what dear Philip 
is, lovely in form and feature, bright, intellectual, 
affectionate, good, everything to delight his 
father’s heart and mine, and then — Frank ! ” 
Mrs. Archer drew her dainty knitted shawl about 
her shapely shoulders. “ I have no words,” she 
said with cold emphasis, “ with which to express 
my feeling toward Frank.” 

“ It is evidently not a feeling of love,” I put in 
with a little warmth. 

‘‘ Ho, you are right. Miss Poppelheimer. It is 
not one of love. To say nothing of his conduct 
toward myself, which is invariably marked by 
sullen obstinacy and hatred, how could I, who 
have always, I may say, found my chief pleasure 
in being surrounded by objects of beauty both in 
nature and art, and who cannot look without re- 
pulsion upon even the slightest mark of de- 
formity, or even ugliness — how can I love any 
child who walks, who sits, who peers along, with 
his nose half a yard ahead of the rest of his 
body, who cannot without awkwardness answer 
the simplest question addressed to him, how can 


56 A Misunderstood Hero 

I love such a child as that ? Love ! ” she added 
disgustedly, “ no, I can barely tolerate him in my 
sight. 

“ But it has always been so,” she continued. 
“From the first moment when their father 
brought them to me after their mother’s death, I 
chose Philip for my very own. He was so beau- 
tiful, and I worship beauty. And Frank was 
lame and plain, and even then had that peering 
look which is so offensive to me. Besides, he 
was exactly like his mother’s father, a man I 
always hated,” said Mrs. Archer, with a steely 
gleam in her eyes. 

Her dislike was so intense that I wondered if, 
far back in the past, there had not been some 
malice or uncharitableness which had lingered all 
these years, and which she had, perhaps uncon- 
sciously, visited upon the unoffending little child 
who had been so early bereft of his dearest, and 
in his case, only friend. 

“We cannot all be beautiful,” I observed, in 
answer to what Mrs. Archer had said of Frank’s 
looks. “ We do not have the privilege of making 
ourselves. It seems a pity to have taken the one 
child to your heart and to have cast out the other 
for such a trifle as that.” 

I spoke somewhat warmly. In all that I had 
heard I felt my sympathies bound more closely 
still to the lame boy, and I had become con- 
vinced that more than half of the whole trouble 


The Sinclair Family 57 

had arisen from the partiality shown by this 
injudicious aunt when the little twin brothers had 
been placed in her care. 

But she was, as I have said, a woman who held 
one at arm’s length. I, too, experienced a little 
of that awe which girls like Madge and Gertrude 
felt even while they admired her. Therefore I 
could not speak my mind so freely as I might 
otherwise have done. 

But the little I had said enabled the proud 
lady to see that I did not wholly agree with her, 
and she did not like to have people differ from 
her. She said nothing for a moment or two, but 
sat eying me somewhat coldly. When she spoke 
it was not about Frank. 

“ It is true, as you say. Miss Poppelheimer, 
that we do not make ourselves, and we are not 
responsible for the features with which we come 
into the world, but at least it is our privilege and 
our duty to make ourselves look as well as we 
can. I have always striven myself, and have 
endeavored to have those strive with whom I 
have had any influence, to make the best of their 
own good points by their manner of dress and in 
every other way. I am sure if my means had 
been large, like your own, for instance. Miss 
Poppelheimer, it would have been my aim to 
clothe myself with taste and elegance, and cer- 
tainly as much in accordance with the prevailing 
styles as possible. This should be my aim if only 


58 A Misunderstood Hero 

for the sake of that fitness and beauty which to 
me are so important.” 

'fhis was said with much dignity, and again I 
felt Mrs. Archer’s cold, critical eyes scanning me 
from my scanty gray hair parted neatly in the 
middle and combed smoothly behind my ears, to 
the hem of my plain straight gown and the tips 
of my broad-soled shoes. 

This was the way in which she chose to 
revenge herself for the mild doubt I had ex- 
pressed of the wisdom of her treatment of her 
nephews. 

I did not mind it in the least, however, for my 
old-fashioned dress and appearance were quite 
too common subjects of gentle ridicule among 
my own friends for me to care for any criticisms, 
silent or otherwise, which Mrs. Archer might 
make. For many years I had been in the habit 
of arraying myself as I pleased, and so long as I 
felt my dress to be comfortable, neat and appro- 
priate, I went on my way with little thought of 
styles. Therefore, when Mrs. Archer’s cold eyes 
looked me up and down with such lofty scorn, and 
she gave her little pin-prick, I did not feel it, and 
showed that I did not by agreeing with her 
heartily that it was our duty to make the most 
of our good points, not only in our outward ap- 
pearance, but in mind and heart as well. If the 
proud lady suspected that I thought she might 
have cultivated the last mentioned organ more 


The Sinclair Family 59 

than she had done, in regard to her nephew Frank 
at least, she was quite welcome to think so. 

So we went into breakfast, outwardly on our 
usual terms of well-bred politeness, but inwardly 
I fear that I did not like Madge’s “beautiful 
Aunt Margaret.” 


CHAPTEE IV 


FRANK’S MISADVENTURE WITH HIS PLATE, AND 
OTHER MATTERS 

Several days passed after my conversation 
with Madge and Mrs. Archer in regard to 
Frank, and I found myself no nearer the ful- 
filment of my wish to know him better. He 
always sat by my side at meal times, but beyond 
a low “ Good morning,” in answer to my greet- 
ing, or a “Yes ” or “Ho,” when I attempted to 
draw him into conversation, there was no re- 
sponse to my well-meant efforts. But finally a 
better understanding was brought about between 
us, though not until after quite a series of inci- 
dents which I will now relate. 

It happened one day at dinner that Mrs. 
Archer, in the course of one of her brilliant con- 
versational efforts, suddenly observed Frank’s 
plate, which was drawn too near the edge of the 
table. She spoke sharply to him to put it in its 
proper place and went on with what she was say- 
ing. 

Frank obediently pushed back his plate and 
continued silently to eat his dinner. 

Presently she called to him again, “ Frank, do 
6o 


Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 6i 

you not see where your plate is ? How can you 
be so stupidly careless ? You will have it in 
your lap in another second.” 

By this time his father’s attention had been 
roused, and he too spoke sternly to the boy. 
“ Frank, obey your aunt, and be more careful.” 

Poor Frank looked confused and miserable, 
but again pushed back his plate, at the same 
time gazing at it in a puzzled way, as if he could 
not understand what had happened to it all at 
once. 

All went well for a little while, and then I 
chanced to glance in Frank’s direction, and dis- 
covered that the singular plate had again started 
on its travels, and was once more in the greatest 
peril. While Frank was drinking from his 
glass, I deftly moved it back, and he went on 
eating, none the wiser. I could not imagine 
what had led the dish to caper about in this 
strange manner. Frank seemed to be eating as 
quietly as usual, and no such trouble had arisen 
before. However, I congratulated myself that 
for once I had saved the poor child from the 
sharp eyes and sharper tongue of his aunt, and 
composed myself to listen to the conversation. 

In less than three minutes, however, Mrs. 
Archer’s warning came again, “ Frank, see what 
you are doing ! ” 

But she was too late. Over the plate went 
into Frank’s lap, and then, as he started back 


62 


A Misunderstood Hero 


amazed, rolled off with its freight of meat, gravy, 
jelly and vegetables all down the side of my 
skirt, leaving it a sight to behold. 

“ Francis, leave the table ! ” exclaimed Mr. 
Sinclair, in sharp, stern accents. He had risen, 
and stood looking at Frank with a deep frown 
and a flush of mortification on his face. “To 
think a son of mine could show himself such an 
awkward lout as that ! ” he said. 

Poor Frank seemed almost dazed for a moment 
as he gazed down at the offending plate ; then as 
he caught the meaning of his father’s harsh 
words he gave one appealing look into his face, 
and with a strange sound, half sob, half groan, 
pushed back his chair and rushed from the room. 

For a moment no one spoke. My own heart 
and all my thoughts had gone with the little out- 
cast who had just fled from my side. I knew he 
had not meant to cause me trouble. And even 
if he had been careless, as any child might be, it 
seemed a cruel thing that his sad little heart 
must have this new burden laid upon it, this 
harsh reproof and stern dismissal from a cold, 
unloving father. 

I sat looking down at my ruined skirt, but I 
was not thinking of it at all. 

“ O Miss Agatha,” cried Madge on my other 
side, “ your dress is quite spoiled ! How could 
he do such a thing ! ” 

Here every one began to talk of the soiled 


Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 63 

gown and the lamentable carelessness of Frank, 
and Henry, the waiter boy, rushed about remov- 
ing the debris and righting matters as well as he 
could. Meanwhile I assured them that I did not 
mind the injury to the gown in the least, but I 
could not bear to think that poor Frank must be 
sent away in disgrace on my account. 

“ It was simply an accident,” I said ; “ he 
never meant to do it.” 

Mrs. Archer eyed me coldly when I thus took 
the child’s part, and said that in her opinion his 
punishment was all too light, that he grew more 
awkward every day and needed a sharp re- 
minder now and then to bring him to a sense of 
his careless habits. Then in her icy way, though 
with no apparent impoliteness, she gave me to 
understand that she considered her brother 
abundantly able to judge of the amount of 
discipline necessary in regard to his own chil- 
dren. 

I felt duly rebuked and said no more. Mr. 
Sinclair likewise said nothing, but he looked un- 
comfortable, as did every one else, except the boy, 
Kalph, who was now my next neighbor, and who 
kept up a suppressed tittering all through dinner. 
I supposed the adventures of Frank’s plate had 
been pure fun for him, though they had proved 
anything but mirthful to Frank himself. 

As soon as I could escape from the table, I put 
on my garden hat and quietly started in search 


A Misunderstood Hero 


64 

of Frank. I had no idea where he might be, 
but felt that I must find him and do something 
to comfort him in this new trouble. 

I walked all about the house and outbuildings, 
and to all the nooks and shady places on the 
lawn, to the old stump where he liked to sit, to 
the swing and the hammocks, but he was no- 
where to be seen. Still I would not be dis- 
couraged, and sauntered up the first mountain 
path I came to, hoping I might have the good 
luck to find him somewhere. 

And so I did. He, too, had probably, when he 
left the table in that wild rush of grief and dis- 
may, taken the first path he came to, without any 
thought or care where it might lead him. So in 
a little while I came upon him where he lay at 
the foot of a chestnut-tree. He was stretched at 
full length on the greensward, his face hidden in 
one arm while the other tightly clasped his little 
dog which crouched by his side. He was still 
sobbing, and did not hear me as I softly ap- 
proached. Even when I stepped close to him he 
did not notice until I stooped and put my hand 
on his head, saying, “ Frank, look up, my dear.” 
Then he started and sprang to his feet. And the 
look in his face was that of some wild, hunted 
animal brought to bay. 

“ Go ’way ! ” he shouted. The tears were 
streaming down his cheeks, but his hands were 
clenched, and he looked at me in a passion of rage 


Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 65 

and misery. “ Go ’way ! ” he shouted again. 
“I won’t have you here. Go ’way, I tell 
you.” 

“But, Frank,” I said, “let me come. Let me 
speak to you. I want to help ” 

“ I do n’t want your help. I do n’t want any- 
body’s help. I want to be all by myself.” 

“ But, Frank ” I began again. 

“ No ! no ! I won’t listen to you,” he cried, 
putting his hands to his ears. “ I tell you, I hate 
you. I hate everybody in this world. So there ! 
Come, Laddie ! ” And with that he snatched up 
his dog and limped away faster than I should 
have thought possible, leaving me standing alone, 
disappointed, sore and angry to think that all my 
well-laid plans had thus fallen to the ground. 

What a passion the child was in! What a 
wicked temper he must have ! After all, his own 
people had been right when they one and all de- 
clared that nothing could be done with him. 
Yet what a pity it was ! I had meant so well, 
and wished to be his friend. 

As I walked slowly back to my room, I ac- 
knowledged to myself that there was nothing 
more to do. I had quite failed, and would leave 
him to himself hereafter. Then, all at once, I 
remembered how, even in his passion, he had 
clasped his little dog tenderly in his arms ; and 
I thought once more, “ There is certainly some 
good in him. In spite of all I have seen, he 


66 


A Misunderstood Hero 


must have a good heart.” But I could not tell 
how to reach it. 

That evening when we assembled for supper 
Frank was not among our number, and after we 
had been seated for some minutes he still did not 
appear. His father observed his absence and in- 
quired of the other children if they knew where 
he was. But neither they nor any one else could 
tell anything about him. Ho one except myself 
had seen or thought of him since his hasty rush 
from the dinner-table. 

Then I told them how I had seen him during 
my afternoon walk, though without mentioning 
the circumstances of our meeting, and suggested 
that he might possibly still be in the same woods. 

So a servant was sent to look for him. Pres- 
ently the man returned and announced that he 
had found him, but that Frank said he did not 
want any supper, and refused to come with 
him. 

Then Mr. Sinclair said, “ Go to him again and 
tell him if he does not come at once I shall come 
after him myself.” 

We went on eating rather silently until, as we 
had nearly finished our supper, Frank appeared 
at the door. His face showed evidence of his 
long weeping, though there were no tears now in 
his eyes. He held his head down, and wore his 
deepest frown and most sullen aspect. Still, as 
he came up to my side and drew out his chair to 


Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 67 

seat himself as usual, I saw him throw a quick, 
appealing look at his father. 

It cast out all my own irritated feeling toward 
the poor boy. I could no longer feel angry when 
I noted that swift glance, as swiftly withdrawn. 
Love and longing and childish despair were in 
his sad eyes as he raised them for that brief mo- 
ment, and I felt my heart touched anew and 
longed more than ever before to be able in some 
way to comfort and help him. 

As he laid his hand on his chair, his father 
spoke quickly. “ Not there, Frank. You must 
not sit beside Miss Poppelheimer any longer,” he 
said. “ Come here by me,” making room be- 
tween himself and Philip. “ I cannot have you 
ruining any more gowns, as you ” 

But I interrupted him. “O Mr. Sinclair,” I 
cried, “ do not change his seat. I like Frank. 
There is no one here whom I should be so pleased 
to have beside me. What difference does it 
make about the gown ? I would rather a dozen 
gowns should be ruined than that Frank should 
be blamed for what I am sure was not his fault. 
Kindly say no more about it, and let him keep 
his seat by me. I shall not feel pleased if any 
change is made.” 

I cannot tell why I spoke so warmly, for I was 
always somewhat diffident with Mr. Sinclair and 
stood a little in awe of him as well as of his 
haughty sister. I felt my face flush, and perhaps 


68 


A Misunderstood Hero 


my old hand trembled a little in my nervousness 
as I patted Frank’s shoulder and said, “ He may 
sit down, may he not ? ” 

“ Certainly, if you really wish it. Miss Poppel- 
heimer,” said Mr. Sinclair, politely, but looking 
somewhat surprised. “ It is kind of you to take 
such a lenient view of the matter, and I hope 
Frank will feel grateful to you, and be more 
careful in the future.” 

So that little episode closed, though I felt Mrs. 
Archer’s cold gaze upon me several times, and 
caught a surprised glance or two from the rest 
of our party, who were no doubt wondering why 
I should suddenly have become thus interested 
in “ that sullen little lame boy.” 

There was another pair of eyes whose startled 
gaze met mine during that eventful meal. Two 
or three times when I glanced at Frank I found 
him looking up at me with a strange, wistful ex- 
pression on his face which I had never seen there 
before. Almost I fancied there was gratitude in 
the dark eyes raised to mine, but they were so 
quickly withdrawn perhaps I was mistaken. He 
ate in silence, as usual, and I would not disturb 
it to trouble him or to call attention to him. 

After this affair matters at table went smoothly 
with us all for several da^^s. The dishes behaved 
well and so did the children, with the exception 
of Johnny, who never by any possible chance 
behaved well at the table. There came a day. 


Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 69 

however, when another great sensation occurred, 
for which poor Frank could not be blamed and 
with which he had nothing to do. 

It happened that at dinner Master Johnny was 
unusually troublesome and hard to please. The 
mother and aunties were doing their best to 
quell the disturbance so that we might listen to 
Mrs. Archer, who had started upon one of her 
favorite themes and was now instructing all of 
us in general and the two girls in particular, 
on ‘‘ How to make ourselves beautiful.” Every- 
body was trying to hear above Johnny’s clamor, 
and Mrs. Dale, hoping to quiet him, sent Henry 
softly out for a saucer of the pudding we were 
all to share at a later stage of the dinner. This 
she presented to Johnny, who was graciously 
pleased to accept it, and we all drew a long 
breath and composed ourselves to listen once 
more. 

But soon our young tyrant’s voice rose again, 
shrill and clear above Mrs. Archer’s dulcet tones. 
He had thought at last of what he wanted. 
“ Det pie for Donny ! Some b’ueberry pie for 
Donny,” he roared. Louder and louder came 
the demand, poor little Mrs. Todd and the aunt- 
ies striving in vain to quiet him. 

Mrs. Archer was obliged to suspend her re- 
marks for the time being until Mrs. Dale, 
who remembered that there was luckily some 
left from yesterday’s dinner, had a tempting 


70 


A Misunderstood Hero 


piece of juicy blueberry pie brought and placed 
before Johnny. He received it with pleased 
smiles and merry little bobs of his head, looking 
indeed like an angel, though he had not by any 
means behaved like one. 

And now once more Mrs. Archer gathered up 
the scattered threads of her discourse and went 
on telling the girls how they should cultivate 
their good points. They listened with rapt at- 
tention, with far more reverence than I had 
shown, when, a short time before, she had given 
me the same advice. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ we can do it. Even if Na- 
ture has denied us the boon, we can, in great 
measure, make ourselves beautiful ” 

But here Johnny, who had suddenly discovered 
that his pie was no more satisfactory than the 
rest of his dinner, burst out into one of his yells. 
“It is nasty, bad pie,” he cried, “an’ Donny 
won’t have it ! ” And with that he snatched it 
up and flung it, plate and all, with all his 
strength across the table. 

The plate fell against the glass pitcher, and 
both were shattered into a thousand pieces, but 
the blueberry pie, alas, landed squarely in Mrs. 
Archer’s face, just as she was, in her stately 
fashion, declaring that we must make ourselves 
beautiful. 

It landed there not as pie but as a sort of con- 
glomeration of berries, crust and juice, which 


Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 7 1 

spread out in all directions and trickled down 
the lady’s distinguished nose in a manner appall- 
ing to contemplate. 

Could anything be more dreadful ? A horrified 
silence reigned for a moment. Then Johnny’s 
mamma picked up her screaming son and fled 
with him swiftly from the scene. Aunt Lizzie 
and Aunt Jessie followed, with only one thought 
— how to get most quickly from the room and 
help their sister to administer such correction as 
they dared to their terrible young charge. 

Silence reigned, as I have said, but only for a 
moment. Mrs. Archer sat the image of petrified 
amazement. No one spoke or moved till there 
came a great, hearty “ Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” from Mr. 
Sinclair, the first real laugh I had ever heard 
him give. 

“ Margaret, you at least will not need to make 
yourself beautiful to-day,” he said. “Johnny 
has effectually performed that service for 
you.” 

And then we all allowed ourselves to give vent 
to our feelings. I can never forget Mrs. Arch- 
er’s face, as she rose majestically and said, as she 
prepared to leave the room, “ This is too much. 
Either that child retires from the table in the 
future, or I do.” 

She walked to the door like a tragedy queen, 
but her face was not suited to the part. It was 
so daubed with the mass of Johnny’s pie that 


72 A Misunderstood Hero 

one could scarcely have told that she had any 
features. 

After this exciting little affair we all settled 
down to eating our dinners once more, and were 
nearly through the first course when I saw that 
that unlucky plate of Frank’s had once more 
started upon its travels and was at that moment 
tottering on the brink of the table. I pushed it 
back as quickly as I could, and Frank, who was 
just setting down his glass, went on eating in all 
unconsciousness of the timely rescue. I could 
not think that any awkward movement of his 
had brought the dish into danger, for he had 
been eating quietly and like a gentleman, as he 
always did. 

To be sure he had laughed with the rest of us 
at the sight of his aunt’s face, but I am certain 
that no one could blame him for that. It had 
done my heart good to hear him, and to know 
that he actually could laugh aloud like other 
boys. That, however, would not have caused 
him to be careless about his plate, and I was al- 
most convinced that he had had nothing to do 
with putting it in its dangerous position. I 
therefore resolved to keep one corner of my eye 
steadfastly on that plate until I should be able to 
solve the mystery, and in less than three minutes 
I found out all about it. 

The next time Frank happened to turn his head 
away, I saw a small brown hand reach over from 


Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 73 

his opposite side and give the plate a little 
jerk. 

Of course it was Kalph Todd who had done it 
every time, and who had brought all that trouble 
upon poor Frank. I might have guessed it at 
the very start, but somehow I had never thought 
of him and his wretched jokes. 

I called out suddenly, and impulsively, ‘‘O 
Ralph, it is you who have done this mischief ” 

But before the first word was well out of my 
mouth, he had seen that he was discovered, and 
with a face red with suppressed merriment and a 
hasty “ Please ’sense me ” to Mrs. Dale, he, too, 
fled wildly from the table, to the amazement of 
the few who were left. 

“What now?” exclaimed Mr. Sinclair. 
“ What ’s the matter with everybody to-day ? ” 

Then I explained as quickly as I could how 
I had caught that incorrigible boy in a fresh 
piece of naughtiness, and told them how I had 
felt almost sure for some time that Frank had had 
nothing to do with it. It had been a small mat- 
ter to me, I said, but to Frank it was a serious 
trouble, and I was glad that the blame could now 
be put where it belonged. 

“ The young rascal ! ” exclaimed Mr. Sinclair. 
“ He ought to be whipped and put to bed.” 

“ But you see Frank had nothing to do with 
it,” I reminded him. 

“ Eh ? Oh, no. Certainly not. Well, I am glad 


74 


A Misunderstood Hero 


to hear it. You must look out for him after this, 
Frank. Do n’t let him play any more of his jokes 
on you,” he said carelessly. Then he began talk- 
ing to John Dale about something else, and 
seemed to forget all about it. 

I felt deeply disappointed. He had not been 
unkind, only careless in his manner. But I 
thought I could not have passed the matter by 
with such indifference had I been in his place. I 
even felt that, man as he was, he owed an apol- 
ogy to the young boy for all the pain and morti- 
fication he had made him suffer. 

I thought so more than ever, when, as we rose 
from the table and dispersed to our usual occupa- 
tions, he passed out of the room with his arm 
round Philip’s shoulders. He was listening with 
a pleased smile to the merry chatter of the one 
son, but evidently had no thought for the other. 
I saw Frank send a longing glance after the two, 
and then with a short, quick breath, which 
sounded almost like a sob, he too passed out by 
another door, and went his lonely way. 

It happened that next morning Gertrude and 
Madge came in to breakfast fresh from an early 
ramble, laden with flowers, as usual, and among 
the number was one pretty blue flower which 1 
had never seen before. Being somewhat given 
to botanizing, I wished to procure some speci- 
mens of this plant to examine and preserve. The 
girls had found only this single blossom near the 


Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 75 

path where they were walking, but Madge was 
sure she had seen some more a little way down 
the steep hillside, where it would have been hard 
for them to climb. 

“We should tear our skirts all to pieces down 
there,” she said, “ but the boys could get down 
easily enough. Philip, you will get some for 
Miss Agatha, won’t you ? ” 

But it appeared that Philip and Kalph both 
thought that it would be impossible for them to 
clamber about among the brush and brambles, 
and besides they had important matters on hand 
and were quite too busy to think of getting flow- 
ers for anybody that morning. So, seeing that 
they did not wish to go, I begged the girls to say 
no more about it, hoping that I might And some 
for myself later on. 

After breakfast I sat by myself on the porch 
reading till some one called me, when I went 
into the house leaving my open book behind me 
in my chair. 

When I came back an hour later what was my 
surprise to see a handful of the lovely flowers I 
had been wishing for lying across my book. 
They were evidently just gathered and had been 
carefully placed between the leaves in such a 
manner that they could neither be crushed nor 
blown away. There was no one at hand to ask 
how they had come there. All the young people 
had scattered to their favorite haunts and the 


A Misunderstood Hero 


76 

elders were in their own rooms. So I had to 
wait until dinner-time before I could make any 
inquiries. 

But when we were all at table, and I displayed 
my pretty flowers, no one could tell me where 
they came from, and it seemed likely to remain a 
mystery till Gertrude suggested that probably 
her brother John had brought them. He had 
been at table in the morning and knew that I 
wished for some. He was not there now, how- 
ever, having been called away just before dinner. 
Doubtless that was the explanation, we all 
thought, and I had it in mind to thank him as 
prettily as I could the next time I should see 
him. 

Just as we had settled the matter in this way, 
I heard the boy at my side draw a quick breath 
as of relief or satisfaction, and glancing round I 
saw Frank’s face, red and embarrassed. In a 
second it flashed upon me that it was he, and not 
John Dale, who had brought the flowers and laid 
them so carefully in my book. I was as sure of 
it as if I had seen him place them there. Though 
how he, who was so crippled, could climb among 
the rocks where the others thought they could 
not go, I could not tell. I would not say a word, 
however, nor disturb him by another look, but I 
was glad that he had done this kind and grace- 
ful act, for it looked at last as if the poor child’s 
heart had softened toward me. 



Whom should I see but Master Frank 






Frank’s Misadventure with His Plate 77 

I said nothing to any one else of my discov- 
ery, but looked all about for Frank that after- 
noon. He was nowhere to be seen, and I could 
not tell how I was to find an opportunity to 
thank him. The day passed by. I saw him at the 
supper-table where I could say nothing, and after 
supper he disappeared as usual. 

The next morning when I rose, the matter had 
escaped my mind for the time being, till, as I 
raised my window-shade, who should I see trudg- 
ing down the mountain path but Master Frank 
with both hands full of the pretty blue blossoms. 
He had evidently found a new spot where they 
grew abundantly, and he looked cheerful, as he 
limped along the path with his little dog leaping 
and dancing by his side as if he knew and shared 
his young master’s pleasure. I resolved that I 
would still say nothing, but wait and see what 
would happen next. 

At breakfast he did not speak to me, except for 
the low “Good morning.” After breakfast, I 
decided to lay a little trap for him, and see if I 
could not by means of the flowers manage to 
break down the wall of diffidence, misunderstand- 
ing, or whatever it was, which still held us apart. 

I went out on the porch again with my book. 
But about ten o’clock I slipped into the parlor, 
which was empty, and sat down where I could 
peep through the curtains. Presently I saw 
Frank, with the flowers in his hand, come to the 


yS A Misunderstood Hero 

foot of the steps from the direction of the old 
stump where he sat so much. He looked all 
about him to see if any one was near, and then 
came quickly up the steps and deposited his flow- 
ers on my book. 

And there I caught him. Coming softly out, I 
put my arm round him just as he was turning to 
go away, and said, 

“ Ah, I have found you out, my dear ! I have 
found you out at last ! I know now who it was 
that brought me those lovely flowers yesterday.” 


CHAPTEE Y 


MISS AGATHA MAKES FRIENDS WITH FRANK 
AND SCOLDS RALPH 

Frank turned about quickly within my arm, 
looking startled, dismayed, almost frightened. 
“ Let me go, please. I have to go now,” he said, 
low and hurriedly. 

But I would not release him just then. “ No, 
no ! ” I cried. “ Stay with me a moment, my 
dear, and let me speak to you.” And then as I 
held him close and looked into his face, which 
showed shyness, embarrassment, but no resent- 
ment, I said : “You are not angry with me 
now, Frank, as you were the other day. What 
made you so angry then ? ” 

Frank moved about uneasily and looked down 
at the toe of his boot, but said nothing. Still he 
did not try to get away, and I took that for a 
good sign and went on, 

“ I am sure you do not hate me now or you 
would never have brought me the flowers. Do 
you think you do, my dear ? ” 

He suddenly lifted his head and glanced into 
my eyes, then as quickly turned away. “ I was 
bad that day,” he said in a muffled voice. 

79 


8o 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ But now you have thought better of it, and 
you are no longer angry ? ” 

“ ISTo, no ! how could I be, when you have been 
so good to me ? ” 

“ Oh, my dear, I want to be good to you if you 
will only let me,” I cried. “Come, let us sit 
down here,” drawing him with me to the end of 
the porch, and seating myself on the long bench 
which ran along its side. “ Let us sit down and 
talk things over. I like you so much, Frank, and 
I have taken what you may think a very queer 
notion into my head. It is that you and I 
should become real friends. What do you say to 
that ? All the others have their own particular 
mates. Madge and Gertrude go together, and 
Philip and Kalph. Your father has your Aunt 
Margaret, and Johnny's mamma has her sisters, 
but there is no one for me. I am lonely some- 
times when I have to take my strolls by myself 
and I should like it very much if you would 
come with me now and then. What do you say, 
my dear ? It is true that I am old and you are 
young, but for all that I think we might be good 
comrades, and it would be a real kindness if you 
would help to cheer my lonely hours occasionally. 
What do you say, Frank ? Will you be my little 
friend ? ” 

Frank had been looking at me with earnest- 
ness all through my long speech, but when I 
paused after putting my question he hesitated a 


Miss Agatha Makes Friends with Frank 8i 

moment and then as though he did not quite 
understand said, “ But — I am Frank.” 

“ Of course you are, my dear. Did you think 
I believed you to be anybody else ? ” 

“ But you would not want me. Nobody ever 
wants me.” 

“ But I do, Frank. I want you for my own 
little friend, and I will love you very dearly if 
you will let me.” 

“ But I do not know how. Miss Ag ” He 

hesitated at my name. 

‘‘Miss Agatha, of course. Why should you 
not call me b}^ that just as Madge and Philip 
do?” 

“I should not know how. Miss Agatha,” he 
repeated timidly. “ I never had any friend, 
and I do n’t know how people do. And you 
would n’t like me. You could n’t, for nobody 
ever does, I am so stupid and bad. And then I ’m 
lame. How could you like to walk with me ? ” 

He spoke sadly and a little longingly, I 
fancied, as if he might have liked a friend, 
even if it were only an old one like me. 

“I wish I could,” he said, and then added 
shyly, “ but anyhow I shall love you just the 
same, ’cause you ’ve been so good to me.” 

Poor, neglected child ! The tears started to 
my eyes, but I would not let them fall. “ My 
dear, never say such things to me,” I said briskly. 
“You are not stupid, and you are not bad. And 


82 


A Misunderstood Hero 


as for being lame, you are just the one for me, 
for I am old and cannot get about over the 
mountains very quickly either, so who could suit 
me so well as you ? Besides, as I just told you, 
I am often lonely, Frank, and your companion- 
ship would be very pleasant if you would give it 
to me now and then. Sometimes I have thought 
that you know as well as I what it is to be 
lonely, my little lad. Is it not so ? ” 

Frank gave a quick sigh, but said nothing at 
first. In a moment, however, he spoke, glanc- 
ing down at the little dog at his feet, which sat 
looking up into his young master’s face affec- 
tionately, “ But I have Laddie.” 

‘‘True, so you have, my dear. But I have 
not even a ‘ Laddie ’ to go about with me. I am 
glad, though, that you are not quite alone. How 
much he loves you, Frank! See him look at 
you.” 

Laddie suddenly jumped up on the bench, and 
placing his forepaws on Frank’s shoulders, be- 
gan to bark with quick little yelps, and kissed 
his face so energetically that Frank could not 
help laughing. 

“He heard you say that. Miss Agatha,” he 
said, with a bright look up at me. 

“ Do you think he understands what we say ? ” 

“ I know he does.” 

“ Then, Laddie,” said I, turning to the dog and 
patting his head, “ ask your master if he will not 


Miss Agatha Makes Friends with Frank 83 

do as I wish and promise to be my good little friend, 
and go out with me this afternoon for a long 
stroll and show me where the lovely flowers grow. 
Ask him, Laddie.” 

Laddie looked up into Frank’s face, and seeing 
a pleased if somewhat confused expression there, 
was so delighted that he began to bark again and 
kissed the boy’s cheek more vigorously than be- 
fore. So then I pretended that Laddie had 
joined his appeal to my own, and that now I 
could not consent to any refusal. I made Frank 
promise that he would be on his old stump wait- 
ing for me at two o’clock, and would take me a 
little way up the mountain which we called “ Old 
Bald Top ” to show me where the flowers grew. 

Just after this matter was satisfactorily ar- 
ranged, we heard some one come whistling 
through the hall, and seeing that Frank grew 
uneasy I let him go. But as he turned to walk 
down the steps he glanced around at me, and there 
was a grateful look in his eyes. A wistful, half- 
doubting look it was, too, as if he wished to 
assure himself that it was really true that some one 
liked him in spite of all his faults and infirmities. 
I answered the look with as hearty and cheery 
a smile as I could summon to my face on such 
short notice, but perhaps my lips trembled a 
little, and I am sure there was a tear in my eye. 
For was it not a cruel thing that this child, at 
eleven years of age, should have it to say that he 


84 A Misunderstood Hero 

had never yet known what it was to have a 
friend ? 

The person who had been whistling in the hall 
proved to be no one else but Kalph Todd. He 
came to the open door and stood there carelessly 
looking about for a moment, before he spied me 
sitting in the corner on the bench. How I had 
seen nothing of Kalph since the day before, when 
he had so suddenly fled from the dinner-table 
after my discovery of his mischievous attack 
upon Frank’s plate. I was glad to see him now, 
as I wished to have a few moments’ talk with 
hina in regard to that affair. He, on his part, 
did not appear to share this desire of mine, and 
at first looked as if he hardly knew whether to 
run away or stay. But Ralph and I were well 
acquainted by this time, and on very friendly 
terms, so friendly, in fact, that I had already 
upon several occasions taken him to task in a 
kindly way for various naughty pranks of his. 
So now, when I called to him, “Come here, 
Ralph, I want to talk to you,” he at once gave 
up all thought of flight, and came to the bench. 
Throwing down his hat carelessly he flung him- 
self upon the seat close by my side and looked 
up at me with a roguish twinkle in his eyes. 

“ How do n’t scold me. Miss Agatha,” he said, 
laughing. 

“ But I must, my dear,” I said. “ That is ex- 
actly what I called you out here for.” 


Miss Agatha Makes Friends with Frank 85 

“ It ’s all about that plate, I suppose,” he said 
ruefully. 

“ Yes, it is. Kalph, I do not see how you could 
be so cruel as to play one of your silly jokes on 
that poor boy, of all people.” 

“ Why not ? ” asked Ealph. “ Why should I 
mind him any more than any one else ? ” 

“ Because he is lame and lonely and sad and 
so unfortunate in many ways. I should think 
your heart would be touched by the sight of his 
unhappiness, and that you would long to help 
him, instead of trying to bring more trouble on 
him.” 

“ But I did n’t try to bring trouble on him,” 
said Ealph, a little uneasily. “ I just moved his 
plate round a little.” 

“ Yes, and you saw what came of it — how the 
poor child had to leave the table in disgrace, and 
how he suffered for it.” 

“ Suffered ! ” repeated Ealph. “ Why I do n’t 
suppose he suffered any. Why should he ? 
What ’s being sent away from the table ? My 
father ’s sent me away a hundred times, and I ’m 
sure I never suffered any. And as for Frank Sin- 
clair, he would n’t mind it as much as I would. 
I do n’t suppose he ’d mind a thing like that any 
more than that cow out there would.” 

“ Why should you think that, my young 
friend ? ” 

“Why, you know, don’t you. Miss Agatha? 


86 


A Misunderstood Hero 


He is n’t bright like other people, exactly,” said 
Kalph, looking up at me as if in surprise at my 
lack of understanding. 

“ O Kalph, what a false, what a cruelly false 
idea you have of that poor, wronged child ! ” I 
cried. “ How can you misjudge him so ? What 
you say is not true. He is as bright as any one, 
if only he were not so neglected and ill-treated 
by even his ” 

But then I stopped. It would never do to 
utter all my thoughts to a boy like Kalph. 

“ What makes you think so, Kalph ? ” I asked. 
‘‘Is it because you have never heard him say 
anything ? Do you think he cannot speak the 
English language fully as well, perhaps even 
better than you do ? ” I spoke rather pointedly, 
for Kalph was not particularly careful in his 
speech, and was in the habit of receiving frequent 
corrections from his own people in regard to his 
grammatical failings. 

However, my little sarcasm was quite lost on 
him, and he replied very placidly : “ Oh, no, I 
know he can talk well enough, for I ’ve heard 
him two or three times when I ’ve gone to 
Philip’s room before breakfast. You know they 
sleep together. Once I heard Frank talking so 
fast I thought it was Philip, for it sounded just 
like Phil’s voice, and when I opened the door 
and found it was Frank, I tell you I did n’t know 
what to make of it. He was talking and laugh- 


Miss Agatha Makes Friends with Frank 87 

ing and had his arm round Phil and looked so 
happy I wouldn’t have known him if I’d seen 
him anywhere else. Philip was laughing at 
what Frank was saying, and they were having a 
jolly good time together. Now was n’t that 
queer, Miss Agatha ? But the minute Frank 
saw me, he turned his back as quick as a shot, 
went into the corner to put on his coat, and 
hurried out of the room as fast as he could.” 

“ It certainly was a little singular,” said I, feel- 
ing puzzled, for I had seldom seen the two brothers 
together. “ I am glad to hear it,” I added, “ for 
I have thought it strange they did not seem to 
care more for each other. We always think that 
twins have a greater love for each other than 
other brothers and sisters.” 

“ Well,” said Kalph, “ I do believe that Frank 
must like Philip, anyhow, even if he does hate 
everybody else, for he was looking at him just 
as if he loved him, and he had his arm round 
Phil’s neck when I opened the door.” 

“ Well, then, how can you think he is so dull ? 
You have heard that he can talk and have seen 
that he knows at least enough to make his 
brother laugh at what he was saying.” 

“ But, he can’t say ‘ boo ! to a goose ’ any- 
where else. Miss Agatha. And they all seem to 
think he’s no good. None of ’em takes any 
notice of him, and they don’t act as if they 
thought he knew anything. I should think his 


88 


A Misunderstood Hero 


own folks ought to know. Just look at Phil, 
how different he is ; knows such a lot of things. 
I wish I knew half as much as he does. And 
Frank can’t do any of ’em — recite poetry and 
talk to grown-up folks and all that. Of course 
he would if he could.” 

“ Perhaps he might if he had a chance,” I said 
a little dryly. “ Everybody is so busy admiring 
Philip’s attainments they have no time to see 
whether Frank can do anything or not.” 

However, I realized that it was not well to 
continue in this strain. I informed him, instead, 
as kindly as I could, that I was sure that he and 
even Frank’s own people were quite mistaken in 
their judgment of him. I told him how I had 
discovered that the boy had really a kind heart 
under that repellent manner of his, how I thought 
that if Palph himself would only make a few ad- 
vances, and endeavor to become better acquainted 
with the lonely boy, he might do much to make 
his summer a happier one, and would at least 
have the consciousness that he had done a good 
deed by trying to help him along a pathway 
which was likely to prove only too stony at best. 

But Kalph was young and careless, and though 
we talked some time, he did not seem particu- 
larly impressed by anything I said. 

“ I dare say he would only scowl and glare at 
me if I did try to speak to him,” he said. “ And 
he would n’t want to play anything I ’d want to. 


Miss Agatha Makes Friends with Frank 89 

Philip says he never wants to do anything but 
read and talk to that dog. No, Phil ’s worth a 
dozen of him. I think I ’ll go now and hunt up 
Phil, Miss Agatha.” 

“ At least promise me before you go that you 
will play no more of your stupid tricks on 
Frank,” said I, somewhat warmly. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll promise that. Miss Agatha. I 
did n’t mean any harm at first. The plate really 
was ’most off the table the first time his aunt 
spoke to him, and then it came into my head to try 
to knock it off. I thought it would be such fun to 
see it go over.” And the naughty boy laughed. 

“ I do not at all thank you for my own part in 
the joke, either,” said I, tartly. “ I do not care 
to have my clothing ruined in any such manner.” 

“ That was too bad,” said Kalph rather du- 
biously. “ But I ’ll tell you one thing,” he added, 
brightening up, “I’m jolly glad it was your 
dress I spoiled.” 

“ And why, my kind young friend, should you 
be glad of that ? ” I inquired, astonished at this 
announcement. 

“ Oh, because it would n’t make so much differ- 
ence to you. Gertrude Dale says you can get a 
new dress every day in the year if you want to. 
If it had been mamma’s dress now, that would be 
a different thing,” said Ralph, shaking his head 
seriously. 

I hardly knew whether to be angry or to laugh 


90 


A Misunderstood Hero 


at this singular cause for congratulation on 
Kalph’s part. Nevertheless, I hastened to assure 
him that I had no present intention of replenish- 
ing my wardrobe to such a remarkable extent, 
and that I would thank him to be as careful of 
my gowns in future as of his mother’s. 

“ All right. Miss Agatha, I ’ll remember,” said 
Kalph quite humbly. 

“ And, Kalph, how you can go on from day to 
day deliberately trying to hurt people and seeing 
something funny in it, I do not understand. 
How would you like it if some one should set to 
work to hurt your feelings the way you have 
hurt poor old Aunt Mirny’s by that picture, and 
now Frank’s, too ? ” 

Ralph gave a little shrug and grinned. 

“They couldn’t do it. Miss Agatha. Don’t 
you see they could n’t ? Because I have n’t got 
any feelings to hurt.” 

“ Perhaps you think so.” 

“ I know so,” said Ralph with conviction. “ I 
never had any. All the feeling I know anything 
about is when I fall out of a tree, or stub my toe, 
or when father gets out his strap. Of course I 
can feel that.” 

I said nothing. Where was the use of appeal- 
ing to such a young harum-scarum ? Only this 
was to be said, that he was not half so bad at 
heart as he pretended, and I hoped he would 
think differently some time. 


Miss Agatha Makes Friends with Frank 91 

“ Ealph,” said I, after we had sat in silence a 
moment, “ what does make you and Johnny so 
naughty ? ” 

“ I do n’t know, Miss Agatha,” said Ealph. 

‘‘ Sometimes I think you are the very naugh- 
tiest children I ever knew.” 

“I’m afraid so. Miss Agatha.” And Ealph 
shook his head as if in despair, though there was 
a provoking twinkle in his eye. 

“ Your mother is such a sweet little woman,” I 
went on ; “ so kind to everybody.” 

“ Is n’t she, though ? ” said Ealph enthusiastically. 
“ The jolliest little mother ! And father ’s good, 
too, and as grave as a judge.” 

“ Your aunties are dear little women, too, both 
of them.” 

“ Aunt Lizzie ’ll stand an hour and brush at a 
fly to send it out of the door, instead of letting 

me come this” and Ealph thrust out his 

hand, opening and shutting it quickly, as he 
drew it swiftly past his nose, to show how the 
fly would be dealt with if he had his way. “ I 
don’t know. Miss Agatha, what makes us so 
bad,” he added reflectively. “ I suppose we 
can’t help it.” 

“ I wish you would try to help it, all the same, 
Ealph,” I said, very seriously. “ I should like to 
see you grow into a good, earnest youth, merry 
and playful as you like, but kindly and helpful to 
every one around you, instead of doing such things 


92 


A Misunderstood Hero 


as that,” and I pointed with some scorn to where 
we could get a glimpse of one corner of the stone 
which still displayed Aunt Mirny’s portrait. 

“Well, I’ll try,” said Kalph, looking more in 
earnest than he had done hitherto. “ I ’ll see 
what I can do. Anyhow, I won’t bother Frank 
after this. And I ’ll tell you what. Miss Agatha, 
I’ll promise something else, too. If I can see 
any way to help him along, I will. That is, if 
he ’ll let me, but I do n’t suppose he will.” 

“ That is right, my dear. I like to hear you 
talk that way, and I know you are not half so 
bad as you would like me to believe. One thing 
more, Kalph,” for I saw he was impatient to go. 
“Do not be too certain about your having no 
feelings like other people. I am sure you have 
them somewhere hidden away, and you would n’t 
like to have them hurt any more than the rest of 
us do. Think of that the next time you are 
tempted to play a joke on somebody.” 

But Ralph’s serious mood was quite gone, and 
he only laughed, and picking up his hat from the 
floor, tossed it onto his head. 

“ Good-bye, Miss Agatha,” he shouted. “ I ’m 
off now.” 

“ Where do you go ? ” 

“ Off to find Phil, and then I guess we ’ll go 
hunting up in the woods.” 

“ What shall you hunt for to-da}’’ ? ” 

“ Oh, anything that comes along. Perhaps I 


Miss Agatha Makes Friends with Frank 93 

had better hunt for my feelings up there,” he 
added, with a twinkle in his eyes. “ That ’s 
what I ^11 do, Miss Agatha ; I ’ll go up there and 
hunt for my feelings. Would n’t you ? ” 

With that he was off. There was a laugh and 
a hasty rush down the steps, and the next mo- 
ment I saw him flying across the lawn, shout- 
ing and waving his hat to a small figure far up 
the road to the hotel, which I supposed must be 
that of his boon companion, Philip Sinclair. 

Well, he was young yet and naturally the mer- 
riest of rogues. One must not be too severe 
upon him, I thought. No doubt he would come 
out all one could wish him to be in the end. At 
all events he had seemed touched, for the mo- 
ment at least, in regard to poor Frank, and I 
hoped he would not forget his promise to help 
him if the chance should come his way. 


CHAPTER YI 


FRANK AND MISS AGATHA TAKE THEIR FIRST 
WALK TOGETHER 

We were quite a small party assembled at 
dinner that day. Johnny no longer came to our 
table. Since the time when Mrs. Archer had so 
tragically announced that he and she could not 
sit at the same table, a complete change in the 
seating arrangements had been effected. We 
still had Johnny with us, but in a far corner of the 
room, where, with his back to everybody else, he 
sat at a little table and thumped and thwacked 
and shouted and stormed as much as he pleased. 
His mamma and Aunt Jessie sat on either side, 
and though we could still hear the spoons and 
glasses ringing, and a dish now and then crash- 
ing to the floor, we none of us turned our heads, 
but went on with our own eating in far greater 
peace and quietness than we had known during 
Johnny’s reign over us. 

Our party was still further diminished by the 
absence of Philip and Ralph. They were always 
on hand at meal-time, and as the dinner drew to 
a close their unusual delay was noticed by us all. 
Mrs. Archer became quite alarmed for Philip’s 
94 


Their First Walk 


95 

safety, fearing that the two boys had wandered 
away so far that they had lost themselves, and 
were now, perhaps, straying farther and farther 
from home. Mr. Sinclair also seemed anxious as 
time passed and they did not return. 

Mrs. Todd, however, who had become ac- 
customed to Ralph’s frequent disappearances and 
his usually safe returns, would not look at the 
matter in any but a cheerful light, and was sure 
both boys would soon be back safe and sound and 
clamoring for their dinners. 

When the hour of two approached I left them 
all out on the lawn under the trees, and stole 
away to my own room, to watch for Frank to 
appear at the old stump, which was plainly 
visible from my window. I feared that he might 
not keep his appointment and was preparing to 
be disappointed when I saw him hurrying round 
the corner of the house, as if fearing he might 
be late, and peering all about for me. I was 
glad to see an eager look on bis face and 
hastened down the stairs and out to the trysting- 
place as quickly as possible, that he might not 
feel chilled by any delay on my part. 

“ Here I am, Frank,” I called when I had 
nearly reached the stump, “ and so glad to find 
you on time. How let us go for a good walk.” 

Frank looked shy and as usual had nothing to 
say, but he smiled as he got up from his stump 
and came to meet me. 


96 A Misunderstood Hero 

“ But where is your dog ? ” I asked in sur- 
prise. “ I do not see Laddie.” 

“ I tied him up,” he said timidly. “ I thought 
maybe you would n’t like to have him go.” 

“ Oh, of course Laddie must go. We mustn’t 
think of going without him — especially when he 
knows all about it, and helped to make the 
appointment. Kun quickly and untie him, my 
dear.” 

Frank looked happy at this, and saying, “ He 
did hate to be left behind dreadfully,” limped off 
as quickly as he could to set his loving little 
comrade at liberty. 

Presently the boy and the dog appeared, com- 
ing as fast as they could to where I stood. Lad- 
die running and jumping and whirling himself 
about in a perfect frenzy of delight. 

“ That is all right now,” I said, patting Lad- 
die’s head as they came up to me. “ How where 
shall we go ? ” 

“You said something about finding where 
those flowers grew,” Frank said diffidently. 

“ So I did. That shall be our first walk, if it 
is not too far for me to go. Where is it, my 
dear?” 

“ Just up a little way on Mount Eyre,” he re- 
sponded brightly, pointing to his right. 

“ That will be a pleasant walk for us,” I said, 
for it was a well-beaten track in and out among 
the trees, with sunlight and shadow dancing 


Their First Walk 


97 

across the path where the branches waved in the 
cool breezes of the lovely midsummer day. 

It was the same road up which Ealph had 
climbed so quickly in the morning. I had never 
strolled in just this direction myself, however, 
and I was glad of it now, for it afforded me an 
easy opportunity to become better acquainted 
with my young companion. It was evident that 
he had been over the ground many times, and in 
pointing out a bit of pretty moss or lichen here 
and there, or perhaps a delicate vine trailing at 
our feet, or a dainty blossom half hidden among 
its leaves, he soon forgot his shyness, and began 
to talk like anybody else. In fact he chattered 
as eagerly as Philip himself, though scarcely 
with that easy fluency which gave to Philip’s 
speech the peculiar charm of which we were all 
so conscious. Frank’s words came more slowly, 
and sometimes with a slight hesitation, as if he 
could not at once And the one he wanted, but I 
was more than half convinced that this arose 
from lack of practice in talking and believed 
that time and the society of sympathetic com- 
panions, if such could be found, would remedy 
this slight defect. 

We rambled on to find where the flowers 
grew, becoming better friends with every step. 
When I thought it over afterward, I was aston- 
ished to find how much I learned about my 
young friend in the course of that short after- 


gS A Misunderstood Hero 

noon. As soon as the ice was fairly broken be- 
tween us, he seemed glad to pour out his whole 
heart to me, to take me completely into his con- 
fidence and reveal those secrets of his lonely 
young life which had so often puzzled me. 

Thus I learned of his intense love for the 
mountains, and how he spent his time day after 
day among the forest trees, or roaming from hill 
to hill, following a winding stream, or an old, de- 
serted bark road, seeking always for new and 
strange things in nature to study and to love. I 
discovered a keen insight into the ways of birds 
and animals, which seemed remarkable in one so 
young. He might not know the names of all 
the creatures he saw, but he was familiar with 
their habits and knew all about their homes. 
He showed me where a little screech-owl lived 
in its den within a hollow stump, and where the 
chickadee built its nest in a rotten branch. He 
knew, too, where a certain hoary hermit of a 
woodchuck dwelt in its hole under a stump and 
where the muskrats swam about in the marshy 
pool fed by a mountain brook. 

Then, within a few short rods, as we rambled 
on, he pointed out a dozen different varieties of 
mosses which I fear my own old eyes would 
never have been sharp enough to find. He 
scrambled up the steep hillside, where I thought 
he could not go with his limping foot, to pluck 
and bring to me a bit of beautiful climbing fern. 


Their First Walk 


99 


But it was not until we had reached the place 
where the flowers grew which had led to our 
comradeship, that I learned what I most longed 
to know. When we had turned aside from the 
path and picked our way among stones and brush 
down the side of the mountain, he led me to an 
old mossy log, and showed me where, at one end 
of it, he had found his flowers. The plants were 
there, but with no blossoms now, for he had 
plucked them all in his eager desire to give me 
pleasure. Farther down the hill we could see 
some of the bright bluebells gleaming among 
the leaves and brush. It was a lovely spot, 
shaded by the branches of a huge chestnut-tree, 
and when we had talked a little about the flow- 
ers and Frank had scrambled down the hill to 
pick some more, we sat down to rest upon the 
old log. 

There it was that I learned, at length, poor 
Frank’s side of the story of his strange and lonely 
life, which had already been told me by his aunt 
and sister, each in her own way. 

“You see. Miss Agatha,” he said, after we had 
talked a long time and he had spoken freely 
about his home life, “ you see I can’t remember 
the time when I did n’t know that Philip was the 
one they loved and were proud of, and that they 
were all ashamed of me because I was lame and 
awkward and near-sighted. When we were little 
fellows I can remember how pleased Aunt Mar- 


lOO 


A Misunderstood Hero 


garet was to take Philip to places, but she never 
wanted me, and when there was company at 
home she would always have Philip come into 
the parlor and show off, but she sent me back if 
I wanted to go too. By and by Philip would 
come out and tell me how the people praised him 
and how father looked so pleased and Aunt Mar- 
garet was so proud of him. It used to hurt me 
even then when I was such a tiny little fellow, 
to think I could not have some of the good times 
too. I’d run away by myself and cry, but I 
would n’t let one of ’em know how I felt about 
it, any more than I will now,” and there was a 
fierce, proud look in his eyes. 

“ Then I ’d feel,” he went on, “ as if I hated 
Aunt Margaret, just as I knew she hated me. 
And I ’d hate everybody, because I felt so lone- 
some and bad. By and by, as we grew a little 
older, things were worse and worse. I could see 
how they all just worshiped Philip, because of 
his good looks and because he was bright and 
quick, and never shy or afraid to talk to any one. 
Aunt Margaret and Madge were always taking 
him with them, but they never wanted to take me, 
and Aunt Margaret told me every day how 
ashamed she was of the way I looked and acted. 
After awhile I could n’t bear to be in the room 
with any of them, because they were always 
hurting me somehow, and I learned to stay alone 
and amuse myself as well as I could. 


Their First Walk 


lOl 


“ But it was dreadfully hard work, and it ’s 
been hard even till now. If it had n’t been for 
Laddie I do n’t know what I ’d have done,” he 
continued, with a little sigh, as he stroked the 
head of the dog as he lay curled up on the log 
beside him. “ And even Laddie is n’t my own 
dog,” he added. “ A lady gave him to Philip, 
but Philip has never cared for him and would n’t 
look after him.” 

“ But, my dear, did you actually have no one 
to be good to you and care for you even when 
you were a little child ? ” 

“ There was always a nurse when I was little, 
and Aunt Margaret, and father, too, would see 
that I had food and clothes, of course, if that is 
what you mean. Miss Agatha.” 

“ I think I meant something more than that, 
my child,” I said. 

“ Once I had a nurse I just loved, she was so 
good to me, and somehow she always seemed 
sorry for me. But she didn’t stay long. She 
had some trouble with Aunt Margaret, I do n’t 
know what, and was sent away. 

“ Miss Agatha,” continued Frank, after a brief 
pause, looking up into my face with his eyes 
shining, “ I suppose you will think it queer, but I 
do feel that I have always had one person to love 
me.” 

“ Who, my dear ? ” 

“ I think I have my own mother,” he answered. 


102 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ I have always felt that she did love me while 
she lived, and somehow it seems as if she does 
now, only I can’t know about it as I would if she 
were here. That has always helped me when I 
was feeling the worst, Miss Agatha.” 

“ It is a sweet thought, my boy, and I am glad 
it comes to you,” I said. “ I believe with you 
that it is true that your dear mother does see and 
love you very tenderly, though we cannot see 
her.” 

“ Miss Agatha, I want to tell you something 
else. Last winter I was up in the attic at home, 
and there in an old trunk I found a letter from 
my mother to my father. Perhaps it wasn’t 
right, but I read it, and I ’m glad I did, for it was 
full of love for us all, for Madge and Philip and 
me. I suppose father was away somewhere and 
she was telling him about us, and oh, she spoke 
so tenderly of me. Miss Agatha I She said that I 
had been ill but was better, and how thankful she 
was that I had been saved for father and her, — 
but I don’t think I can tell even you, Miss 
Agatha, all that my mother said in that letter.” 

Frank’s eyes filled, and his voice broke into a 
little sob. 

“ But I shall never forget what she said,” he 
went on, ‘‘ and I have the letter safe. I did n’t 
think it wrong to take it out of the old trunk and 
keep it. Do you. Miss Agatha ? And now when 
I get to feeling as I did the other day, I go and 


Their First Walk 


103 

get the letter and read it, and then I know I 
have ray own mother to care for me any- 
way.” 

“ Yes, indeed, my dear,” I said, “ and I am very 
glad you have her precious words to think of and 
to dwell upon again and again. I do not doubt, 
dear Frank, that they will prove the strongest 
safeguard you can have for all your future life. 
If you are ever tempted to do wrong you must 
think of the letter, and then, I believe, you will 
not go far astray.” 

‘‘ I know my mother would have wished me to 
be good, and I do mean to be if I can,” said 
Frank, with a sigh ; “ only I do n’t know that I 
shall ever be able to manage it, for I do get such 
spells of hating everybody. You see it is so bard 
to feel that they are all ashamed of me because 
I am a cripple and ugly in my face. And then 
it ’s hardest of all to have them think I do n’t 
know anything, when all the time I know in my 
own mind that it isn’t so.” There was a touch 
of indignation in his tone. “ I know I ’m not 
almost a fool, as Aunt Margaret thinks I am. I 
know that I could do something if they would n’t 
all show me that they think I can’t. In school, 
when our teacher calls on me to recite I know my 
lesson perfectly, but I get so frightened for fear 
he ’ll think I do n’t know it that I begin to trem- 
ble and stammer, and then Philip puts up his 
hand and answers for me. Mr. Lawton lets him 


104 ^ Misunderstood Hero 

go on and praises him for having his lessons so 
well and just looks pityingly at me, because he 
thinks I don’t know enough to be able to learn 
anything. 

“ Then he tells father how bright Philip is, and 
I do n’t know what he says about me, but I sup- 
pose it ’s something bad, for they all think now I 
can’t learn anything in school. And all the time 
I do have my lessons. Miss Agatha, if I could only 
get the words out.” 

“ It is the teacher’s fault,” I said indignantly. 
“ He is no teacher at all, and Philip is very wrong 
not to wait for you. How is it that he does n’t ? 
He knows you better than to think you cannot 
learn, does he not ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, of course Philip knows just how it is 
with me.” 

“ Then why does he not help yon instead of 
taking the words out of your mouth in that 
way?” 

“ I do n’t know,” said Frank, with some hesita- 
tion. “ Miss Agatha,” he went on in a moment, 
“ Philip is sometimes very good to me, and when 
we are alone and he has no one else to be with, I 
often think he cares for me a little, though not as 
I do for him. But then, again, sometimes he 
hurts me more than any one else, but I can’t tell 
you how, for I love Philip. He is just like my- 
self to me, I love him so, and I could n’t tell any 
body how he hurts me.” 


Their First Walk 


105 


“ I can see for myself,” I said, “ that he is not 
all that he should be to his twin brother. And I 
think I know without your telling me, Frank, 
why he does not give you a chance to recite your 
lessons.” For I had seen for some time that 
Philip’s besetting sins were selfishness and an 
undue love of praise, and in his greedy desire to 
win his teacher’s approbation, he was probably 
only too ready to let his nimble tongue outstrip 
his slower brother’s. “ I think,” I said, “ that I 
shall have a little talk with Philip.” 

“ Oh, no,” exclaimed Frank, in distress. 
“ Please, Miss Agatha, do n’t do that. It would 
only make Philip angry with me, and it would n’t 
do any good. IIow, when we are alone, he is 
often very good to me, and I do think he cares 
for me a little. We study together, and he tells 
me all his secrets and what he does and where he 
goes, and you know that is a great deal,” said 
Frank, trying to speak very cheerfully. “O 
Miss Agatha, you would spoil all that if you said 
anything. Please do n’t.” 

“Very well, then, I will not if you do not 
wish it, but still, I think he is very wrong.” 

“ It ’s not so much Philip’s fault,” said Frank ; 
“it’s Aunt Margaret’s. She’s the one who’s 
made them all ashamed of me. She ’s set my 
own father against me, and made Madge hate to 
be seen with me. Oh, how I hate Aunt Marga- 
ret ! ” He doubled up his fist and a deep scowl 


lo6 A Misunderstood Hero 

came on his face. “I can’t remember the time 
when I did n’t hate her. She ’s never spoken a 
really kind word to me yet, and she always looks 
at me as if 1 were a snake. I wish sometimes I 
was — would n’t I bite her ! ” 

“ Oh, but, my dear,” 1 put in, “ you must not 
hate your aunt, or any one else, Frank. You are 

all wrong. ‘ Love your enemies ’ ” 

“ Not Aunt Margaret. I will never do that,” 
said Frank firmly. Then he went on, “ But after 
all, I would n’t mind so much all she ’s made me 
suffer if she hadn’t set my father against me. 
O Miss Agatha,” and the little fellow broke 
down, hiding his face, wet with tears, against my 
shoulder, “that is what I can’t bear. I could 
stand anything else if only my father did n’t de- 
spise me so. I do love m}^ father. There is no 
one in the world I love as I do him, and it almost 
kills me when he looks at me the way he did the 
other day at dinner. Oh, I ’d do anything in the 
world — sometimes I think I ’d be willing to die. 
Miss Agatha,” the words were uttered solemnly, 
“ if I could only just once see my father look at 
me and put his arm around me as he does around 
Philip every day. But he never did in all my 
life that I can remember, and I do n’t suppose he 
ever will. It’s Aunt Margaret who’s done it 
all. She hates to see me around because I’m 
lame and because I can’t see like other people, 
and father always thinks just as she does,” he 


Their First Walk 


107 

finished, with discernment beyond his years. 
“ And so does Madge, too ; she ’s ’most as bad as 
Aunt Margaret.” 

“But, my dear Frank, you do not hate your 
sister? Madge doesn’t mean to be unkind to 
you,” I said. 

“ No, but how she speaks about me ! ” said 
Frank bitterly. “ ‘ Philip, you should n’t laugh 
at poor Frank so. He can’t help it if he is n’t 
like you.’ ” Frank’s lip curled scornfully as he 
quoted Madge. “ Always pitying me because she 
thinks I ’m a fool. I hate that as much as any- 
thing else. Yes, I hate Aunt Margaret and 
Madge and everybody else except father. I 
can’t hate hirn. But it hurts me dreadfully to 
have him think I don’t know anything, and am 
only a disgrace to him. He feels so sorry that 
I ’m the one that was named for him, too.” He 
dashed his hand to his eyes to brush away the 
tears. “ All I ’d ask would be to have him care 
for me just a little, and not give it all to Philip. 
Sometimes I almost think I hate Philip because 
he has so much and I so little, but I know I 
do n’t, even when I try to the most, for he ’s just 
like myself to me, and I can’t bear that any- 
thing should hurt him any more than to be hurt 
myself. I almost think I do hate him though. 
Miss Agatha, when he makes fun of me before 
everybody, and then when he tells some of his 
dreadful — but I won’t say anything about that,” 


io8 A Misunderstood Hero 

and Frank stopped suddenly in confusion. “ But 
that’s the way I feel toward everybody, Miss 
Agatha,” he continued, when everything goes 
wrong and I seem all black inside of me.” 

Here the boy broke out into bitter weeping 
again, and for my part I cried with him, as I put 
my arm about his shoulder and held him close. 
For it seemed such a cruel thing that this young 
soul should thus early have become distorted 
with passions he should never have known at his 
tender age. Envy, suspicion, jealousy, rage, 
despair were there, but even among them all 1 
could still find the warm, loving heart, eager to 
pour out its affection upon its nearest and dearest, 
that sad little heart longing for the opportunity 
to love and to be loved. 

Again I resolved that I would be the child’s 
friend while my life should last. I sat silent, 
holding him close within my arm, for I could not 
yet command my voice to speak. 

Suddenly Frank wiped away his tears and 
put his arm around my neck in an impulsive 
fashion. 

“ O Miss Agatha,” he said, “ do n’t think I 
meant you when I said I hated everybody. I 
could never hate you, for I do truly love you. 
Miss Agatha. Ho one was ever half so good to 
me as you. I know Madge and Philip say you 
are an old, old maid, with a little, dried-up, 
homely face, but to me your face is just beauti- 


Their First Walk 


109 

ful and I love to look at it. Oh, I hn glad you 
are my own friend, Miss Agatha ! ” And Frank 
hugged me again. 

“ Yes, dear,” I said, “ always your faithful old 
friend. And it is very true what Madge and 
Philip say,” I went on, with perhaps the least 
little pang, for who likes to be called old and 
withered ? “I am a little old maid, and never 
was beautiful, even when I was young like 
Madge, but my heart is not wrinkled, even if my 
face is, and it is brimful of love for you, my 
little lonely boy, and always will be.” And 
as I held him clasped in my arms, again I 
prayed that I might be a wise counselor, a 
helper and comforter to one who seemed so 
strangely neglected by father, by brother, by 
sister, by all. 

Just here, Frank, who had evidently been 
pursuing quite another train of thought, broke in 
upon my silent musings. 

“And your clothes are not queer and old- 
fashioned and prim, and they donH look as if 
they came out of the ark,” he declared sternly. 
“When I heard Aunt Margaret say that the 
other day, I just wanted to take her and put her 
in a bare, cold room with nothing to eat but 
bread and water, and keep her there for weeks 
and weeks ! ” 

But here I could not refrain from a hearty 
laugh. To think of this valiant little knight 


no 


A Misunderstood Hero 


longing to rush into battle in behalf of an old 
woman like me ! 

Frank glanced up at me with a startled, 
shocked expression. That I should laugh at 
such a moment, when he was pouring out his 
whole wrathful heart, with his eyes sending 
forth indignant sparks through their glasses ! 

“ Oh, my dear,” I said, “ what does it matter ? 
If you find my old face kind and true, why 
should I mind the others? And as for my 
clothes, it is not the first time they have been 
called quaint and old-fashioned. Let it all go, 
dear ; we will waste no more thought upon it. 
You are like the knights of olden times, Frank, 
who were always riding forth to fight for 
maidens in distress, only the maidens were 
never anything but young and beautiful. Did 
you ever hear about them — how they stopped for 
nothing, but even slew great giants, when they 
came in their way ? ” 

“Yes, indeed,” said Frank, “I’ve read a lot 
about ’em in a book at home.” 

“I think I shall have to call you my own 
little knight, and get you to fight some giants 
for me, by and by. There are quite a num- 
ber I would like to see killed. Will you, 
Frank ? ” 1 

“ Why, what do you mean. Miss Agatha ? Of 
course I know there are no giants really.” 

“ Not any who are really visible to our eyes. 


Their First Walk 


111 


of course, but nevertheless there are some very 
terrible ones, strong and powerful and very 
wicked. I want you to destroy them for me. 
Promise that you will try.” 

“I don’t know what you can mean. Miss 
Agatha. Tell me more.” 

“ J^o, not to-day,” I said. “ It is almost time 
to go home. We will talk of them another day. 
But I want you to be my own brave knight, and 
fight them for me all you can.” 

I think it ’s queer,” said Frank, looking much 
puzzled. 

“ I suppose it is,” I answered laughingly. “ But 
never mind now. See, the sun is getting lower, 
and we must go home. Promise me, though, be- 
fore we start, that you will try to conquer these 
grim old giants.” 

“ Of course I will if I can. Miss Agatha,” said 
Frank, still greatly mystified. Then we rose 
from the old log and started up the hill to find 
the homeward path. 

Presently Frank asked me to let him show 
me something if I was not too tired. “ It will 
only take a minute. Miss Agatha. It ’s a little 
house I ’ve built for myself. I call it my 
castle.” 

“ I should like to see it,” I said. And that is 
just as it should be, for knights ought to have 
castles, of course.” 

Frank laughed a little at this, and we trudged 


112 


A Misunderstood Hero 


on through some bushes until we came to a 
small clearing of a few rods in extent. It was 
a pleasant, shady little nook, softly carpeted 
with grass and vines and tufts of mountain-pine. 
Here and there lay the huge trunk of a tree 
felled to the ground and stripped of its bark to 
slowly whiten and decay in the sun and storm of 
succeeding seasons. On three sides stood the 
living brothers of these fallen forest giants, tall 
oaks and tulip-trees which stretched their limbs 
far out over their stricken mates and seemed 
to stand as sentinels guarding their long sleep 
and making a gentle moan with rustling leaves 
and swaying branches, as the wind swept their 
great boughs to and fro. 

A steep hillside covered with the wealth of 
forest which is everywhere so abundant in these 
regions, stood on the north of this sheltered spot, 
and here Frank had built, or, rather, had finished 
the “ castle ” which nature, long ages before, had 
partly prepared for him. 

Some time in the dim past, nobody ma}’^ say 
how long ago, a huge boulder had stood in the 
hollow of this hill where it sloped down so 
sharply to meet the level ground. By the silent, 
slow, resistless action of the frosts of countless 
winters it had been rent asunder, and during the 
long centuries the two halves had drifted apart 
so that now they stood two or three yards from 
each other, forming upright walls of several feet 


Their First Walk 


113 


in thickness, and about the height of a man’s 
head. The same mighty forces had brought 
from the hillside another boulder, which resting 
across these two made a sort of roof with a 
curiously rounded top. 

When Frank discovered this natural curiosity 
and stepped within the little enclosure bounded 
by the stone walls, he saw at once how easily he 
could supplement the roof and fill in the spaces 
between the stones and the hillside with branches 
from the bushes and low-growing trees near by. 
The idea of having this solitary hermitage, this 
“castle” as he called it, all to himself, had 
pleased him, and he had spent hours, first in 
trudging back and forth with stones to set 
against the outer walls, by means of which he 
could reach the roof, and then in getting the 
boughs with which he filled it in and made all 
compact and snug. 

I could imagine that the lonely boy had known 
some truly happy moments while engaged in this 
arduous labor, and now it was with a look of 
pride and pleasure that he ushered me through 
the open doorway into the cool, shady room with 
its carpet of grass and its ceiling of sweet-smell- 
ing branches, through which a few strips of blue 
sky were still visible. 

In one corner was a round block of wood, which 
had at some time been cut from a log and then 
rejected and left behind by the shingle-cutters. 


114 


A Misunderstood Hero 


This served as a seat for Frank when he did not 
wish to lie at full length upon his carpet, as I 
could see he had recently done, for an open book 
lay on the grass in one of the corners. There 
was another block of the same shape and size as 
the stool, which was evidently used as a table, 
and on it w-ere placed various little articles I was 
at once invited to inspect. 

These were curiosities in the way of stones, 
snail-shells, bits of odd and pretty mosses, and a 
number of Indian arrow-heads which the boy 
had picked up in his walks and which I saw 
were highly prized. There were freshly gathered 
flowers, in an old tin can, it is true, but still 
arranged with taste. 

After I had expressed my admiration for 
Frank’s little treasures, I picked up his book, 
for I was interested to find out what he had 
been reading. It was an old, much-bethumbed 
copy of Hawthorne’s “Tanglewood Tales,” a 
dear friend of my own childhood, so far, far 
back. 

“ Do you like it, Frank ? ” I asked. 

“ Oh, do n’t I ! ” he exclaimed. “ I ’ve read it 
all through once, and now I’m going over it 
again to tell to Philip.” 

“Why? Can’t Philip read it for himself?” 
I inquired. 

“ Oh, yes, of course he could,” said Frank. 
“ But he has so much to do up here, and, besides, 


Their First Walk 


115 

I love to read better than he does, so I read 
things and tell him about ’em afterward. But I 
can’t get much up here, of course,” he added, 
rather disconsolately. 

“ Then you are fond of books,” I said. 

“I love them better than anything else.” 

“Do not your people know how you like to 
read?” I asked, wondering how they could 
think a child of eleven who was so fond of books 
could be at all lacking in intellect. 

“ I do n’t know,” answered Frank. “ I sup- 
pose they see me reading at home sometimes. 
[N’obod}^ pays any attention to what I do, you 
know. Miss Agatha.” 

“ I am sure you recite, too, probably as well as 
Philip,” I said, remembering the time I had heard 
him prompt his brother. 

“ Oh, no, I could not recite as Philip does. Of 
course I know all Phil’s pieces and more besides. 
He always learns his pieces with me, but I 
never could get up and say them before people 
as he does. Is n’t it beautiful to hear him. Miss 
Agatha? I do love to watch Philip when he 
speaks,” said Frank enthusiastically. 

“ Yes, dear, he speaks well,” I agreed, “ but I 
wish you would show yoar father that you can 
do it also. Will you not try some time, if I ask 
you ? ” 

“ Ho, no ! ” he cried in alarm. “ Oh, never 
ask me, Miss Agatha. I could not even stand up 


ii6 A Misunderstood Hero 

before them and feel Aunt Margaret’s cold eyes 
on me and father looking so ashamed. O Miss 
Agatha, you would not do it!” Poor Frank 
actually grew pale as he thought of the horror 
such a moment would bring to him. 

“ No, no, my dear, of course I will never say a 
word if you do not wish it. We will think of it 
no more.” Then to change the current of his 
thoughts I said, “ This is Mrs. Dale’s book, I see,” 
for it had her name on the fly-leaf. “ Did she 
lend it to you ? ” 

“ No, Miss Agatha, she did n’t,” answered 
Frank, rather shamefacedly. “ I saw it in the 
bookcase in the parlor the day I came, and I ’ve 
been longing ever since to read it, but I did n’t 
like to ask anybody for it, till the other day old 
done said he ’d get it for me.” 

“ Old done 1 ” I repeated in surprise. 

“ Yes, you know who old done is, that old 
colored man that does chores round the house. 
One day I found his little grandchild up here in 
the woods. She ’d cut her foot dreadfully and 
was crying like everything, and I carried her 
home to her mother. It was hard work, for she ’s 
a fat little thing. Ever since that old done’s 
been just as kind to me as he can be, and he 
wanted to do something for me right away. I 
don’t know how I came to, but I told him I 
wanted to read this book, and he went to Mrs. 
Dale and asked her for it. Was n’t he good ? 


Their First Walk 


117 


And there ’s another book there, too,” Frank 
went on, “ that I want awfully, and Jone says 
he ’ll get it, when I finish this one.” 

“But, Frank, Mrs. Dale would let you take 
any book she has,” I said. “ Why not ask her 
yourself ? ” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Frank shrank away 
from me, and for a moment seemed about to shut 
himself up in his shell again. “ I could n’t ask 
anything from any of them. Do n’t ask me to. 
Miss Agatha. I like to keep by myself, just as I 
have been all the time ; only to have you. Miss 
Agatha, for you are my own friend.” 

My poor little lad ! He looked at everything 
and everybody, not only through his own near- 
sighted glasses, but through those cloudy, dis- 
torted spectacles of doubt, suspicion and timid 
aversion, as well. I would not say anything 
now, for it was not a proper moment, but before 
long I hoped to help him to a brighter, braver out- 
look upon life and the fellow beings around him 
than he seemed able to gain at present. 

“We must go now, Frank,” I said, presently, 
getting up from the stool where he had seated 
me. “ But I hope you will often bring me to 
this little castle of yours, and that we may have 
many good talks together here.” 

So once more we started for home. Frank 
knew a shorter way than the path by which we 
had come, and led me on until we came to a 


ii8 A Misunderstood Hero 

noisy little brook bubbling and shimmering 
along over its stones. 

‘‘ Oh, stop a moment, Miss Agatha, and see 
my fish,” he begged. 

We took a few steps more to a place where the 
brook fell over some rocks, forming a pool be- 
low. As Frank approached this still little sheet 
of water a school of minnows came swimming 
up, quite as if they knew and wished to welcome 
him. He took a piece of corn bread from his 
pocket and threw some crumbs to them. The 
little creatures darting up from the water eagerly 
seized it, each more anxious than the others in 
their greedy haste. 

Again Frank flung his crumbs, and we laughed 
to see the tiny things dart about, tumbling over 
each other, flirting their tails and making their 
silver sides glitter in the sunlight. 

“ Old Jone gives me a piece of bread every 
day,” he explained, “ and I come down here and 
feed them. There is another fellow, too, who 
wants his dinner. Do you see that old bullfrog 
over there. Miss Agatha ? ” and he pointed to an 
immense frog sitting among some weeds on the 
opposite bank. “ He sits there every day, and 
waits till the fish have had their dinner, and 
then he expects his.” 

Frank took a tin box from his pocket, and 
picking out a fat angleworm threw it on the 
bank close to the bullfrog. The old fellow 


Their First Walk 


119 


seemed to pay no attention to it for a moment, 
then suddenly turned, waited another second, 
and in the twinkling of an eye the worm was 
gone. Then he resumed his former position, and, 
apparently asleep, waited until Frank threw 
another worm, when he went through the per- 
formance again. 

We were talking merrily about this odd pet, 
when all at once the boy called out, “ Hark ! 
and began to listen intently. 

“O Miss Agatha, I heard Philip’s voice,” he 
cried. “ Something is the matter. There it is 
again ! Do you hear ? ” 

Yes, I heard now. Some one was calling, 
“Frank, where are you ? O Frank, come ! ” 

“ It is Philip,” said Frank, grown pale with 
fright. “ Something dreadful must be the mat- 
ter. Yes, Philip, I’m coming,” he called as 
loudly as he could, and started up the hill in the 
direction of the cry. 


CHAPTER VII 


RALPH’S ACCIDENT 

As Frank hurried up the hillside, suddenly some 
bushes in front of him parted, and I saw Philip’s 
face, wild with terror. When he beheld Frank, 
he rushed to him, falling into his arms and sob- 
bing convulsively. 

“ Phil, what is it ? What ’s frightened you 
so ? ” I heard Frank say. 

“O Frank,’' Philip exclaimed with a gasp, 
“ we ’ve been lost all day, and now I ’m afraid 
Ralph is killed ! He ’s lying under a tree, and 
he does n’t stir. Oh, I am sure he ’s dead ! O 
Frank, I ’m so frightened ! ” And Philip sank 
to the ground, trembling all over and crying as 
if his heart would break. 

By this time I had climbed the steep hillside 
and reached the two brothers. “What is it 
about poor Ralph ? ” I cried. “ Let us go to him. 
Where is he, Philip ? ” 

Philip seemed bewildered. “ Oh, I do n’t know 
where he is,” he said. “ When I saw him lying 
there so white I just ran — anywhere, I was so 
frightened. I came down the hill just as fast as 
I could. He’s up there under a tree. He 


120 


121 


Ralph’s Accident 

climbed way up to the top to see if he could n’t 
find out where we were, and when he was up in 
one of the high branches, it broke, and he fell 
clear to the ground, and he ’s dead.” Philip be- 
gan to tremble more violently than ever. 

“ I cannot believe it ! ” I exclaimed. “ He may 
be only stunned by his fall. Come, dear Philip, 
and show us where to go. We must find him.” 

“But I don’t know where it is. I’m all 
turned around,” said Philip miserably. 

“ Is it far from here ? ” asked Frank. 

“ Ho ; because I began to call you right away. 
It just seemed as if I must get to you, Frank, and 
in a minute or two I heard you answer.” 

“ Come, Frank,” said I, “ you and I must try to 
find him. Let poor Philip stay here and rest.” 

“ Ho, no,” cried Philip. “ I ’m afraid to stay 
alone. I must go where Frank goes.” 

“ Yes, Miss Agatha,” said Frank decidedly, “it 
is better that he should keep with us. He is 
frightened. Come, Philip.” 

Philip got up from the ground, and Frank led 
the way up the hill through the bushes where 
Philip had first appeared to us. Even as I was 
hurrying on with my heart full of anxiety and 
distress for Ralph, I could not help a passing feel- 
ing of surprise that Philip should exhibit such 
fear. It was so unlike all I had hitherto known 
of his character. He delighted so in tales of 
bravery and daring, and was a boy of such 


122 


A Misunderstood Hero 


sturdy, manly appearance. All at once, how- 
ever, he had utterly broken down, and was 
stricken not only with grief but with fear, at the 
thought of his comrade’s condition. 

But there was no time to think of such things 
now, and I hastened after Frank with my whole 
mind given to Kalph. 

We could see by the trampled branches the 
way Philip had taken through the bushes. It led 
us to an open space on the brow of the hill, where 
a number of trees stood in irregular groups. 
Under one of these I saw a dark object lying. 

“ Oh, I see him ! ” I cried with a pang of fear, 
for he lay very still. But the next moment I 
exclaimed, “ He is not dead, Philip. See, he 
moves his foot.” 

I never knew how we sped over the ground, 
but in a moment we were around poor Kalph and 
gazing into his white face, drawn with pain. He 
was just regaining consciousness, but seemed not 
to notice us. 

“ Oh, my dear boy,” I cried, kneeling by him, 
“ where are you hurt ? Can you speak to me, 
Kalph?” 

Slowly and uncertainly he looked about him 
till his glance at length fell on my anxious face 
bending over him. “ It ’s Miss Agatha ! ” he said, 
surprised. 

“ Yes, Kalph. Tell me where you are hurt, my 
boy.” 


Ralph's Accident 1 23 

“ I do n’t know that I ’m hurt anywhere,” he 
answered. “ I feel queer. Oh, my arm hurts ! 
What ’s the matter with it ? Oh, now I know. 
I fell out of the tree. Miss Agatha.” 

“ Yes, dear, we know you did. Do n’t try to 
move.” For I saw from his face that he was be- 
coming very conscious of pain, and observed how 
helplessly his arm lay by his side. I felt sure it 
was broken. “You are better now, Ralph,” I 
went on, endeavoring to speak cheerfully. “ You 
were a little stunned by your fall.” 

I was kneeling beside him with his other hand 
in mine, trying to plan how to get him home. It 
would be impossible for us to carry him, yet he 
must be taken there as soon as it could be man- 
aged, for his pain was increasing. 

“ Something ’s wrong with my foot, too. Miss 
Agatha,” he said feebly. It hurts like every- 
thing. And all down my side I ache so.” 

“ Philip,” I said, “ run down as fast as you can 
to the house, and tell them about it. Ask them 
to come quickly to help us.” 

But Philip hung back. “ Oh, I do n’t know the 
way,” he said. 

‘‘ That is so,” said I. “ Then, Frank, you must 
go, and Philip can stay with me. And Frank,” I 
whispered, “ tell them they ought to send at once 
for a doctor. Come back with them yourself, for 
you are the only one who knows the way.” 

Frank started off as quickly as he could, run- 


124 


A Misunderstood Hero 


ning and limping along over the stones and briers. 
When next I turned my head in that direction, I 
perceived that Philip was hastening after him. 
I had wished him to remain with me, but perhaps 
it was just as well. The poor boy was worn out 
with the troubles of the day, utterly unstrung, 
and no doubt faint with hunger. So I settled 
down to watch over poor Kalph, who was evi- 
dently in much suffering. Great tears coursed 
slowly down his pale cheeks, though he manfully 
endeavored to suppress them and even looked up 
at me now and then, trying to say a merry word 
after his own old fashion. 

“Oh, it’s nothing much. Miss Agatha. I 
know just what it is. My arm’s broken. I 
broke it once before, and it feels exactly as it 
did then, only this time it ’s higher up, I guess. 
I don’t mind it much, though of course it 
hurts some. But my foot ’s just howling down 
there. What do you suppose is the matter with 
that ? ” 

“ I do n’t know, dear, but we ’ll soon have it 
helped when you get home. I do n’t quite like 
to take off your shoe.” 

“ No, Miss Agatha. I could n’t stand that ; it 
hurts dreadfully as it is. My head hurts, too.” 

“ But that is only a bad bruise, I hope, Ralph. 

0 my dear, just think how it might have been ! 

1 cannot see how you escaped with your life, fall- 
ing from that high tree.” 


125 


Ralph's Accident 

“We lost our way,” he explained. “We had 
wandered all over the mountain ever since noon, 
trying to find the hotel or to get home. And 
we were so tired and hungry ! So I climbed up 
there to see where we were. I found where I 
was in about two minutes,” he went on, trying to 
grin, though his face was puckered with pain. 
“ I was flying through the air on the limb of the 
tree just like a witch on a broomstick. Only I 
did n’t stop to think of that then.” 

“ Oh, do n’t try to joke about it now, dear,” I 
said, wiping some tears from his eyes. 

“We might as well laugh as cry. Miss Agatha,” 
he answered brightly. “Besides, it’s only a 
broken arm, and I ’ve had that before. It ’ll be 
all right when it’s set, only of course they’ll 
keep me in bed with it till I’m most dead. 
That ’ll be the worst of it, and all this summer’s 
fun ’s gone up now, of course. Just my luck ! ” 
he grumbled. 

“My dear Ralph, do keep quiet,” I begged. 
He looked very pale and I was anxious. It 
seemed as if no one would ever come. The sun 
was almost down behind the trees and twilight 
close at hand. I had managed to place Ralph’s 
head in my lap, and sat as motionless as I could 
so that I might not jar him. We were silent a 
long time. I wiped away the tears which he 
could not succeed in keeping back. A whip- 
poorwill flew into a branch near by, on the very 


126 


A Misunderstood Hero 


tree which had proved so disastrous to Ealph, 
and sat there swinging himself and singing. 

“ Whippoorwill,” said the boy. “ It ought to 
be ‘ Whippoor Ealph,’ for I do feel as if I ’d been 
whipped and thrashed from my head to my toes. 
Oh, will they never come. Miss Agatha ? ” 

“ Be patient a little longer. They will surely 
be here soon, now.” 

Presently there came a quizzical little wrinkle 
in Ealph’s eyebrows, and a half smile on his 
mouth. “ Miss Agatha, I did find ’em, after all, 
did n’t I ? ” he said. 

“ What did you find, Ealph ? ” 

“Why, my feelings, of course. Don’t you 
remember I said I was going to find ’em up 
here ? ” 

“O Ealph, don’t” I began, but here 

he happened in some way to give a twist to 
his injured arm, and with a sharp scream, sud- 
denly fainted quite away, his head sinking 
heavily in my lap. 

What could I do now, with no one near to run 
for water, or to aid in any way to restore this 
poor boy, who I feared was hurt more than he 
believed ? The only thing was to place his head 
gently on the ground and then fly to a brook 
which I could hear gurgling over its stones, that 
same brook which earlier in the day Frank and I 
had visited farther down the hill. I filled my 
hat with the clear, cold water and hurried back. 


127 


Ralph’s Accident 

There were only a few drops left by the time I 
reached poor Ralph, but they were enough. 
Slowly he came to himself again, and promising 
to mind me better, he lay very quietly for an- 
other quarter of an hour, with his head once 
more in my lap. 

Finally I heard the sound of voices calling. 
Never had there been sweeter music in my ears. 
And through the bushes came Frank and Miss 
Jessie, bearing between them, with much diffi- 
culty, an old-fashioned canvas cot, whereon poor 
Ralph was to be carried home. But were they 
the only ones to come in this hour of distress ? 
Where were the others ? And how could we two 
women, with the aid of one small, lame boy, ever 
get Ralph down the mountain and safely home ? 

While Miss Jessie, full of the keenest anxiety 
for her injured nephew, bent over Ralph, Frank 
explained that when he and Philip reached home 
they found nobody there except Miss Jessie, 
Johnny and Aunt Mirny, for every one else was 
oif searching for the missing boys, and Miss 
Jessie wrung her hands in dismay because of the 
sudden responsibility thrust upon her. How 
was Ralph to be brought home ? How was the 
doctor to be summoned ? 

Finally the difficulty was solved by Aunt 
Mirny, who told Miss Jessie to tie Johnny to the 
door-knob and go up with the boys, while she 
would catch the horse and go for the doctor. 


128 


A Misunderstood Hero 


She brought out the old cot, and then waddled 
off to find her horse, which had been left behind 
in the general stampede only because he was too 
lame to be of any use. How she managed I do 
not know, for she had not been on a horse’s back 
for twenty years and had supposed herself quite 
too fat to mount to the saddle. But in some 
way it was done, and a fine figure she must have 
presented, as she rode away on her limping steed 
in search of aid for her youthful enemy. 

When Kalph overheard Frank telling me about 
it, he must have felt that this was returning good 
for evil with a right good will, for he looked up 
into my face and said between his groans : 

“ I do n’t deserve that from Aunt Mirny. I 
know I do n’t,” and tears brought there not en- 
tirely by pain welled in his eyes. 

Poor Philip had been too tired for anything 
but bed, so Miss Jessie and Frank had started on 
their toilsome journey up the mountain with the 
cot between them, leaving Johnny tied to the 
knob of the hall door. 

All through Frank’s story I was casting about 
in my mind how we could manage to lift Kalph 
to the cot without hurting him more sorely than 
he could bear. It seemed an impossible under- 
taking that we should carry him home in this 
manner, yet it must be attempted. We placed 
the cot close to him, and Miss Jessie was trying 
to draw a scarf, which I had taken from my 


129 


Ralph’s Accident 

shoulders, beneath his back to aid us somewhat 
in lifting him, when, for the second time that 
day, Frank called out sharply, “ Hark ! 

“It’s father’s voice,” he added. “Father’s 
coming. Here, father!” His voice rang out 
clear and strong and quite like Philip’s. He was 
so happy that for the moment he was lifted out 
of himself. “This way, father!” he shouted 
joyfully. “ Here we are.” 

In another moment or two Mr. Sinclair ap- 
peared at the edge of the wood, and behind him 
a great, strong, colored man, one of the farm- 
hands. What a welcome sight it was ! Mr. Sin- 
clair strode up to us, gave a strained glance at 
Ralph, then turned away with a look of relief 
that it was not his own son lying there. But 
the next moment he called sharply, “ Where is 
Philip ? I heard Philip’s voice.” 

“ It was Frank you heard, Mr. Sinclair,” I said. 
“ Philip is safe at home and unhurt.” 

“ Thank God ! ” he exclaimed. He was evi- 
dently wearied almost to exhaustion, but a great 
load of care seemed to roll off with these words. 
Then we told him as quickly as we could the 
circumstances of our finding the two boys. 
“ What a day this has been ! ” he said with a long 
sigh of fatigue and relief. “ But if Philip is all 
right, all is right for me, and now I must think 
of this poor lad.” 

As for Miss Jessie and myself, we looked at 


130 


A Misunderstood Hero 


each other in silent thankfulness that stronger 
hands than ours were to bear our wounded boy 
safely home. 

A moment or two later poor Ealph was care- 
fully lifted by Mr. Sinclair and placed gently 
upon the cot, and with the two men carrying 
each an end of the improvised stretcher, we 
started for home. 

I need not go into all the details of our arrival 
there. Suffice it to say that by the time we 
reached Glen Elsworth, every one else was there 
too, even the doctor, who had been the first to 
come galloping up to the door, and had found no 
one at home but Johnny asleep on the hall floor, 
worn out with crying. 

It was the doctor who had received the first 
comers, Mrs. Archer and Madge, and had aston- 
ished and frightened them by his announcement 
that he had been hastily summoned to set a boy’s 
broken arm. 

“ Who was the boy, and where was he ? ” were 
the not unnatural questions. 

As the others came straggling home, one after 
another, from their fruitless search, no one could 
give any information until finally Aunt Mirny 
appeared limping up the road looking much the 
worse for wear, leading her lame horse. 

When she arrived within hailing distance and 
could recover her breath sufficiently to speak, the 
whole mystery was solved. 


Ralph’s Accident 1 3 1 

“ It ’s little Redhead,” she gasped, taking off 
her turban and wiping the drops of perspiration 
from her shining brow. “ He done fall out’n a 
tree. Lor’ ! doan’ you fret, honey,” she said to 
Mrs. Todd, who had given a sudden scream upon 
hearing of her boy’s hurt, “ he ’s boun’ ter come 
out’n dat all er-right. I done sot right off fuh 
de doctor, an’ heah he is, sure ’nuf. I tole him 
tuh trabble, an’ I reckon dat ’s what he done. 
Doctor ’ll fix him all right. Doan’ fret no mo’, 
honey.” 

By this time our little procession was observed 
crawling slowly down the mountain path, and 
shortly afterward Ralph was in the doctor’s 
hands, with his anxious mother and aunts bending 
over him and helping him to bear the ordeal of 
an examination of his bruised and battered frame 
and the setting of his broken arm. 

How thankful I was to learn that after all the 
boy had been right when he had told me that it 
was only a broken arm! To be sure the toe 
which had caused him so much pain was found to 
be out of joint and there were ugly bruises on 
various parts of his body, but there were no in- 
ternal injuries, as I had feared there might be. 
With attentive nursing, and by remaining quietly 
in bed for two or three weeks, as the doctor was 
particular to state, there seemed no reason why 
our young adventurer might not in a short time 
be up and about as lively as ever, and ready for 


132 


A Misunderstood Hero 


whatever new mishap fate might have in store 
for him. 

“Lor’, what’d I tell ye now?” said Aunt 
Mirny, when the favorable report was retailed to 
her. “ Dat ar’ boy ’s safe ’nuf, an’ I knowed it 
all de time. Dat kin’ doan’ die young. Dar 
hain’t ’nuf angel ’bout um. His mammy need n’t 
fret ’bout him yet awhile, nor ’bout de leetle one, 
needer,” she added with some sarcasm, but with 
a kindly twinkle in her eye. 

After this exciting event we were all very 
quiet for several days. Poor Kalph was a pris- 
oner in his bed, a most unwilling one after the 
first pain and discomfort of his broken arm had 
passed away. We elders spent much time at his 
bedside striving to brighten his dull hours, and to 
relieve his mother and aunts from the demand 
upon their time and attention which Ealph, who 
was in his way as great a tyrant as Johnny, was 
constantly making. 

He missed Philip’s society greatly ; for Philip, 
though he did not mean to be unkind, was un- 
used to a sick room and did not like to be shut up 
there, even to talk to the friend of whom he was 
so fond, and without whom he was at first lonely. 

Perhaps it was for this reason that he and 
Frank were more frequently together. Several 
times I observed them walking about the moun- 
tain paths or lying on the grass in some shady 
spot reading from the same book. At such times 


Ralph’s Accident 133 

it was a pleasure to me to watch them. Both 
looked happy, and Frank, especially, wore a con- 
tented expression such as had rarely been seen on 
his face. He even confided to me in one of the 
rambles which we now were enjoying together 
and which were making us day by day better 
friends, that he had taken Philip to visit his cas- 
tle, and that they had had good times up there 
together watching his pet fish and laughing at 
“ Old Bloatie,” as Philip had named the bullfrog. 

After the first days of Ralph’s illness, during 
which Philip had wandered about somewhat 
disconsolately, he gradually brightened up and 
became his own gay self. One day he came out 
on the lawn where we were all sitting, with one 
of his most thrilling adventures to relate to us. 
It was about Laddie, the dog. 

It seemed that Philip had been roaming about 
in the woods, when he met several boys from the 
hotel up the mountain. He knew most of them 
quite well, for Mrs. Todd had several friends 
spending the summer at the hotel and their sons 
occasionally came down to Glen Els worth to play 
with Ralph. Philip had been with Ralph several 
times to return these visits, and all of them were 
now on the familiar footing it is so natural for 
boys to assume upon short acquaintance. On 
this occasion they had been playing together for 
some time on an old bark road which ran along 
the steep mountainside, when presently they 


134 


A Misunderstood Hero 


heard a sound as of some animal crying in great 
distress. They ran on up the road a few steps, 
and there what should they see but poor Laddie, 
standing on an old rotten log which had, in its 
lifetime, bordered the upper edge of the road, 
but now lay fallen across it and stretched far out 
over the steep hillside which formed a precipice 
with tall trees and rocks below. Upon this frail 
bridge Laddie had ventured. Probably he had 
jumped upon it from the road, and had run along 
it a little way in a spirit of light-hearted curios- 
ity, like many another traveler before him, anx- 
ious to explore new and untried fields. 

However that may be, the little fellow had 
gone so far out that now when he wished to re- 
trace his steps he found himself unable to turn 
about, either from not daring or not knowing 
how to do so. He stood there trembling and 
crying piteously, just managing to move his head 
toward the boys as they came up, as if to beg 
them to help him. 

As Philip told us in his earnest way of the 
poor dog’s plight, we seemed to see him standing 
there, and a thrill of pity crept over us all. 
“ And what do you think that hateful Tom Mur- 
ray did ? ” said Philip. “ He was the biggest boy 
there, and instead of trying to think of some way 
to help Laddie to get back, he just took a long 
pole and poked him with it and pushed him 
farther out on the log than ever, and Laddie just 


Ralph’s Accident 1 35 

howled, he was so frightened. Oh, but I was 
mad,” went on the boy, with his eyes flashing, 
“ and I told Tom Murray to stop or I ’d smash 
his nose for him, and he just laughed at me. 
Then the others all begged him to creep out on 
the log and get hold of Laddie, because he was 
bigger than we were and could reach him better 
than we could. But he would n’t do it. He said 
he would n’t risk his life out on an old rotten log 
like that for anybody in the world, let alone a 
good-for-nothing dog, and Laddie might stay 
there till he dropped for all he cared. 

“ But I just made up my mind Laddie should n’t 
die that way,” said Philip, all in a glow, “ so I 
went out on that old log myself, though it did 
look as if it would break any minute, you know. 
I crept along just as softly as I could. I felt it 
crack when I got ’most to Laddie, but I 
reached ’way forward and got hold of him 
and held him close in my arms, and then I 
slid along backward to the road. The boys 
cheered like mad when I got off the log, and then 
they just pitched into Tom Murray, and called 
him a coward, till he was glad to sneak off home 
if he is bigger than any of us ! I guess it will be 
one while before I play with him again,” declared 
Philip, as he wound up his tale. 

“ But, my dearest boy, did you actually go out 
on that dreadful log yourself?” exclaimed 
Philip’s aunt. “ Oh, my child, never, never do 


136 A Misunderstood Hero 

such a dangerous thing again ! It terrifies me to 
think what might have happened,” and real 
tears of anxious affection stood in Mrs. Archer’s 
eyes as she thought of the peril her darling had 
been in. 

“ But I wanted to save Laddie, Aunt Mar- 
garet,” said Philip. 

Mr. Sinclair put his arm about Philip’s shoul- 
ders and drew the boy close to him. I could 
see that he also was deeply affected. “ It was a 
noble act, my boy, and I am thankful to have 
such a brave son, and yet — I am like your aunt, I 
could not tell you to do the same again. What 
are a hundred Laddies compared to my boy ! ” 
Then he got up rather quickly and walked away 
from us. 

Philip looked excited and delighted that every 
one had praised him for his bravery. Well did 
he deserve it, I thought, so when he glanced at 
me for my approval also, I gave it with a right 
good will. “ I am so glad,” I added, “ that you 
saved Laddie, dear Philip, not only for his own 
sake but for Frank’s, too. How poor Frank 
would have suffered if he had lost the dog ! 

“ Where was Frank ? ” I continued. It seems 
strange to hear of Laddie away from Frank. 
Was he not somewhere near by ? ” 

“Yes,” said Philip, and suddenly he flushed 
and hesitated, then added in a low voice, “ Frank 
was there.” 


137 


Ralph’s Accident 

What had come over the child ? I looked at 
him in surprise, not understanding in the least 
how this simple allusion to his brother could work 
such a change in his manner. JSTo one else seemed 
to observe it, however, and Madge said : 

“ It would n’t have made any difference about 
Frank’s being there. Laddie would have stood 
no chance at all of getting back if he had been 
left to Frank.” 

“ How could Frank have gone,” I asked, “ when 
he is so lame ? Much as he might have wished 
it, it would have been almost impossible for him 
to perform such a feat.” 

“ And it is not at all likely that he would per- 
form it if he could,” said his aunt drily. ‘‘We 
have never observed any remarkable indications 
of daring on Frank’s part as yet.” 

This was so like Mrs. Archer. She never let 
an opportunity pass of flinging some such little 
sarcasm as this at poor Frank, especially, I fan- 
cied, if I were by to hear it. For I knew that 
she had observed and was not pleased with my 
interest in the neglected boy. 

As for Philip, he stood in silence while these 
remarks were going on around him. All the 
brightness had gone out of his face, and he hung 
his head, abstractedly kicking the toe of his boot 
against the trunk of a tree. After a few more 
words of loving caution from his anxious Aunt 
Margaret, he left us and walked quietly away. 


CHAPTEK YIII 


MISS AGATHA PEEACHES A LITTLE SERMON 
TO FRANK 

One morning about a week after Kalph’s acci- 
dent, I said to Frank at the table, “ Come to my 
room after breakfast, my dear. I have something 
there to show you.” 

I had been seated at my favorite window a few 
minutes only when I heard a gentle little knock, 
and through the partly opened door saw Frank, 
looking shy but evidently pleased to be invited 
to Miss Agatha’s room and anxious to know what 
it was all about. 

“ Come in, Frank, and see what I have here,” 
I said. On the table at my side lay spread out, 
in all their beautiful, bright bindings, a number 
of new books. I had lain awake through the long 
hours of the night after Kalph’s accident, too ex- 
cited to think of sleep, going over and over in my 
mind all that had happened during that eventful 
day, and pondering on Frank’s story of his sad 
young life as he had confided it to me in such 
loving, impulsive fashion. I felt eager to help 
him, and it occurred to me that one of the first 
things to do would be to send for some books. 
138 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 139 

He should no longer be compelled to resort to 
such roundabout methods of procuring his read- 
ing material. So I planned a list of some twenty 
books which I thought he would like, and proba- 
bly would not have read already, and in the 
morning I wrote to a bookseller with whom I 
had dealt for years, to send them to me at Glen 
Els worth as quickly as possible. 

And here they were, all displayed upon the 
table for Frank to feast his eyes upon ! His eyes 
grew rounder and shone brighter through their 
glasses than I had ever yet seen them do when 
I told him they were all for him. 

“ O Miss Agatha, you can’t mean it ! ” he said, 
with a little gasp of astonishment. “ Hot for me, 
all those books! Oh,” he added, “you mean 
they are for me to read.” 

“ I mean they are for you to have for your very 
own. I sent for them for you, Frank, and I have 
placed your name in each. See,” and I showed 
him where I had written in every one of the 
volumes, 

“Feancis Sinclaik, Je. 

“ From his loving old friend, 

“ Agatha Poppelheimee.” 

“ O Miss Agatha ! ” he exclaimed again and 
then was silent. In a moment he came close to 
my side and laid his cheek softly against my 


140 


A Misunderstood Hero 


shoulder. “ I do n’t know what to say,” he be- 
gan. “ I want to tell you how I feel about it, 
but I do n’t know how. Nobody ever did such a 
thing for me before. Nobody was ever so good 
to me in all my life as you. Miss Agatha, and I 
do n’t know what makes you so, for I ’m only 
Frank, you know, ugly and lame, whom nobody 
has ever cared two straws about.” 

“ It is because you are my own little friend,” 
I answered, “ and because I love you and wish 
you to be happy. You do not need to tell me 
anything, for I know just what you would say 
and how pleased you are. I am only glad I hap- 
pened to think of sending for them. Come, let 
us look them over together.” 

We spent some time admiring the covers, 
commenting upon the pictures, and deciding 
which should be the book for Frank to read first 
of all. Fortunately he had seen only two or 
three before, and those, he declared, he had 
often wished to read again. He hesitated long 
in his first choice, but finally fixed upon “ Tom 
Brown at Kugb}^,” to be followed by “Swiss 
Family Eobinson.” 

“ Oh, how I shall like to lie on the grass up at 
my castle and read, read, read ! ” he said joyously. 
“ And all through you, dear, good Miss Agatha.” 

Then we considered where the precious treas- 
ures were to be kept. I told him he might leave 
them with me if he preferred to do so, or that he 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 141 

could carry them to his own room if he could 
find a place for them there. 

I found that he was anxious to have them 
quite in his own keeping. 

“ There is a shelf in there that looks as if it 
was just made for my new books,” he said, “ and 
there is n’t a thing on it now. It will make me 
so happy to see them the first thing in the morn- 
ing when I open my eyes. And besides,” he 
continued, holding up his head proudly, a joyous 
thrill in his voice, ‘‘ I want Philip to see what a 
beautiful present I have had.” 

Ah, I could read very well what was passing 
in the boy’s mind. Hitherto, it had been 
Philip’s lot to have favors and gifts showered 
upon him by friends, but now, now^ it was his 
turn, and he would show Philip that he, too, had 
somebody to care for him ! Perhaps it was an 
unworthy feeling for the child to possess, and I 
do not mean to claim that my little friend was 
without faults, and serious ones, too. Still, it was 
but natural, if one stops to think of it, that he 
who had been so cast off and shut out from the 
good things bestowed upon his more fortunate 
brother all their lives, should feel this wave of 
exultation pass over him, that he, too, had found 
some one who loved him, Frank, crippled as he 
was, and of no account to any one — some one 
who cared enough for him to give him more 
books at one time than Philip had all together. 


142 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“I want Philip to see them,” he repeated. 
“Won’t he just open his eyes, though ?” 

“ You will let Philip read them, won’t you, 
Frank ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, but I do n’t suppose he will want to 
read them. He ’ll want me to read ’em and then 
tell them to him. That ’s the way we do. You 
see, though he ’s ten times brighter than I am, 
and knows a great deal more about everything 
else, he does n’t like to read very well. So I read 
a book and tell him about it afterward. That ’s 
the way we manage.” 

Frank now trudged back and forth between 
my room and his own, bearing his precious 
treasures in his arms. He looked pleased and 
excited, with a bright flush on his cheeks, as he 
carried them away to deposit them in their new 
home on the long, empty shelf. 

As he was gathering up his last load I pro- 
posed that in the afternoon we should go for 
another ramble on Mount Eyre, and visit his 
castle again, to which plan he assented eagerly. 
The fact was, that for a day or two I had been 
wishing to talk seriously to Frank, to scold him, 
as Kalph would have said ; for though I was 
growing to love the little lad more and more 
every day, I could not be blind to faults which 
were only too visible, and against which I felt 
he should be warned. 

Hitherto I had not entered upon these matters 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 143 

with the child. In our walks we had spoken on 
many subjects, and, as I have already said, 
Frank had told me freely of his lonely child- 
hood, his estrangement from his own people, 
especially of his longing for his father’s love, and 
his bitter grieving that it should still seem so 
far from his possession. I had sympathized with 
him in everything. He knew that I felt he had 
been cruelly wronged by his aunt. Still, I did 
not dwell on these points, feeling it wiser to lead 
the boy s mind to brighter thoughts, encouraging 
him to hope that he would yet find warm, loving 
friends, and above all that he would some time 
succeed in winning his father’s love, for which he 
longed more than for any other gift life could 
offer. But as yet I had said nothing of his own 
failings, though they stood out prominently 
enough, and to-day I proposed to undertake the 
task. I was the more impelled to perform this 
duty of a faithful friend, by a certain event 
which had transpired the day before. 

So in the afternoon, when we had strolled 
about for some time among the pleasant paths 
and nooks and dells of Mount Eyre, and were at 
length resting before the doorway of Frank’s 
castle, I opened my attack. 

“ Frank, my dear,” I said, “ I wish to speak to 
you very seriously about something, and you 
must not be angry with your old friend if she 
finds a little fault with you.” 


144 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ What is it, Miss Agatha ? ” asked Frank, with 
a startled look. 

‘‘ My dear, tell me why you were so naughty 
to your Aunt Margaret yesterday when she 
asked you what you had done with your pretty 
new necktie ? ” 

“ Because I hate her,” he said, promptly, a 
scowl beginning to appear on his face. 

But, Frank, you cannot think that is right,” 
I exclaimed. 

“ I can’t help it. Whether it ’s right or 
whether it ’s wrong, I do hate her, and I always 
shall,” he announced decisively. 

“ O Frank ! ” I said, and stopped there, for I 
hardly knew at the moment what I had best say. 
I wished to help the boy to a better state of 
mind, but it was hard to tell the right course to 
take in order to soften the passionate feeling 
which seemed to arise at the mere mention of his 
aunt’s name. 

“ How can I help hating her ? ” demanded 
Frank. “ Did you see how she looked at me 
when she asked me about it in that hateful way 
of hers which makes me fairly boil all over ? If 
I had been one of those great tomato-worms 
which you are all so afraid of, she ’d have looked 
at me in exactly the same way. And she scolded 
me before everybody, too. She need n’t think 
I ’ll tell her what I did with it.” 

“ But you did tell her, Frank. You said loudly 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 145 

and sharply that you had thrown it away, and 
then you turned and hurried off looking so angry 
and sullen that I could hardly believe it was my 
own little friend Frank.” 

The boy was silent, and hung his head. He 
kicked some little stones about nervously and 
then said : 

“ I ’m sorry you heard me. Miss Agatha.” 

‘‘ Oh, do not be sorry for that, my dear,” I re- 
plied. “ Be sorry, rather, for the angry, disrespect- 
ful way in which 3mu answered your aunt. I do 
not see how you could speak to her in such a tone 
and in such words. I know that her manner to 
you is not a pleasant one, still she has a right to 
ask what you do with your clothing. She stands 
in your mother’s place to you.” 

“ Ho, she does n’t,” said Frank, sternly. “ She 
shall never stand in my mother’s place to 
me.” 

“ At least you were placed in her charge by 
your own father, and it is certainly your duty to 
give her the respect and obedience due to a par- 
ent. To roar out to her that you had thrown it 
away ! That was not like what I thought my 
little friend would be. Did you really throw it 
away, Frank ? ” 

“ She would have called it throwing it away,” 
said Frank, rather indistinctly. He dashed his 
hand to his eyes and brushed something away. 
I thought there were tears there, but he was 


146 A Misunderstood Hero 

too proud or too indignant to wish me to see 
them, and I took no notice. 

“ Tell me about it, Frank. How did you lose 
the necktie ? ” 

“ It was one day last week,” he answered. “ I 
was climbing about on ‘ Old Bald Top,’ and I 
came across a lamb that had cut its leg dread- 
fully, and it was bleeding so I thought something 
ought to be done to stop it. I had n’t any hand- 
kerchief or anything else that I could think of 
but my necktie, so I took that off and bound it 
round the little thing’s leg and carried it down 
to Uncle Tone’s cabin. He said it was a good 
thing that I did it, because the lamb might have 
died if I had n’t. I could n’t have told Aunt 
Margaret all that if she ’d been the kindest aunt 
in the world, for all the other people were there, 
and I could n’t have said it before them. But she ’s 
so hateful I would n’t have told it if I could.” 

“ I think, though, it would have been the right 
thing to do, Frank,” I said, ‘‘ and I do not believe 
she would have blamed you for What you did if 
you had only explained it pleasantly and respect- 
fully.” 

“ Yes, she would,” said Frank. “ You do n’t 
know her as I do. Perhaps she might not have 
said much there, but she ’d have looked at me all 
the same, and some time she ’d have told me 
what she thought of my wasting my necktie on 
a lamb.” 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 147 

I was silent, pondering what to say, for Frank, 
in spite of the fact that he was only a little boy 
who had lived much of his life alone, seemed 
to have his faculties for reasoning as well de- 
veloped as many an older person. Perhaps it 
was because of his solitary way of living that he 
had thus early formed a habit of studying people 
and their motives of action so closely. At all 
events, I wished to lead him to look at some 
things in a different light, and yet did not like to 
chill his sensitive nature by any show of displeas- 
ure. 

I sat silent so long that Frank finally gazed 
up into my face with a saddened look in his own 
eyes. 

“ Shall you not be my friend now. Miss Aga- 
tha,” he said, “ now that you know how bad I 
am about Aunt Margaret ? ” 

“ Oh, my dear, the best of friends,” I ex- 
claimed, quickly drawing the child close, and 
placing the dark head against my shoulder, “ the 
very best of friends ! Do you think I could give 
up my own little knight so soon, even if he is not 
always so good as I wish him to be, and does 
cause me some pain now and then ? Do you re- 
member, Frank, how you promised to be my 
knight the other day ? ” 

Frank nodded his head as it rested against my 
shoulder and brushed away some more of those 
troublesome tears. 


148 A Misunderstood Hero 

“ And you said that you would do your best to 
make way with certain grim old giants whenever 
I should ask you.” 

Frank nodded again. 

“ Have you any idea who they are ? ” 

“When I thought about it afterward I sup- 
posed it must be something about my faults.” 
He gave a rueful little smile. 

“Of course, my dear, that was just what I 
meant, only I did not like to call them by the 
plain and ugly name of ‘ faults.’ I fancied you 
could resist them better if you thought of them 
as great, terrible giants, ready to rush down upon 
you and destroy you unless you could withstand 
them by fighting against them with all your 
might. That is what I want you to do, my boy. 
I want you to be brave and untiring in your 
struggle with these terrible foes, and never give 
up till you have conquered them. How there is 
that frightful old fellow, the giant Hatred. Let 
us attack him first. I cannot bear to think that 
he should ever get my little friend in his horrible 
clutches. Will you not get your weapons ready 
to give battle to him, dear Frank ? ” 

“ What weapons ? ” said Frank, a little uneasily. 
“ I have n’t any weapons that I know of.” 

“There is one arrow you could fling at him 
right away, and it would give him a good, sharp 
prick, too. Try to think more kindly of your 
Aunt Margaret. If you could learn to lo ” 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 149 

“ Oh, not Aunt Margaret ! You cannot ask 
me to even like Aunt Margaret, Miss Agatha,” 
he exclaimed. “ I have hated her from the very 
first that I can remember, and I do n’t know any 
other way. I’ll try with other people if you 
want me to. Miss Agatha, though I ’ve always 
said I never would like anybody till they liked 
me. But Aunt Margaret ! ” Frank gave an 
angry little sob. ‘‘Miss Agatha, I’ll do any- 
thing for you but that. Please do n’t ask me.” 

I thought a moment. Ko, I would not ask it. 
It would be better not to attempt too much at 
first. “ Then we ’ll begin with somebody else,” I 
said cheerfully, “ and who knows but some time 
we may get to Aunt Margaret herself.” 

“ No, we never shall,” declared Frank, stoutly. 

“Well, never mind, we will fight our old giant 
with some other weapon. Let me see, is there 
not some one here to whom you could do some 
little act of kindness ? I have always found that 
to begin by doing them little favors as opportu- 
nity offers is a very good way to learn to care for 
those around us. In that way we grow to have a 
kindly feeling toward them, to find out whatever 
fine and noble traits they may have, and so grad- 
ually the habit is formed of good will and charity 
and friendliness for everybody.” 

“ But perhaps they do n’t all have good things 
about them,” objected Frank. 

“Oh, yes, I think there is no one living in 


150 A Misunderstood Hero 

whom we could not discover some good trait, if 
we searched long enough.” 

“ Even Aunt Margaret ? ” said Frank, incredu- 
lously. 

“ Even Aunt Margaret,” I responded. 
“ Surely,” I went on, “ this is a nobler way to 
feel than to say, as you did just now, that you 
would only like those who liked you. Think 
how selfish that would be ! Why should we de- 
mand in return just the measure we give ? Sup- 
pose you had a large, beautiful peach in your hand 
and should meet a schoolmate with a small apple. 
If he should say, ‘ Let ’s divide ; you give me half 
your peach and I ’ll give you half my apple,’ it 
might not be a fair exchange, for your peach is 
larger than his apple, besides being more mellow 
and juicy and better in every way. Still you 
would think it ungenerous to refuse, and so you 
would take out your knife and say, ‘ All right, so 
we will.’ At least, I think you would, Frank.” 

“ Oh, yes, of course,” said Frank. 

“ I think it is just so about giving our love to 
our friends. Perhaps we have more loving 
hearts than the3^ There are some people who 
cannot love very much because they are not made 
that way. Perhaps we know that in our hearts 
is stored up far more affection than they can 
ever give us in return, but let us not mind that. 
Let us give freely of what we have, not asking or 
looking for much from them, taking with a cheer- 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 151 

ful spirit the little they have to spare. Is not 
that the nobler, more generous way ? ” 

“ You said you thought all people had some 
love about them somewhere,” said Frank, but I 
do n’t think I ’ve found very much of it.” 

“ No, my dear, but perhaps you have n’t gone 
the right way to look for it. You have always 
shunned everybody, shutting yourself up like an 
oyster in its shell, living your lonely hermit life, 
striving to keep as far away from those around 
you as you could, growing to have harsh, bitter 
thoughts about them, your heart full of anger, 
suspicion, even hatred, — all black within you, as 
I ’ve heard you say, — how could you know and 
love them, or how could they know and love 
you ? But, believe me, Frank, there is good in 
everybody. I am sure there is no one born into 
the world without some kindly feeling, some 
spark of love in his heart, if it can only be 
brought out, and we must try to find it in those 
among whom our lot is cast.” 

“ I think it would take a good while to hunt up 
Aunt Margaret’s spark,” said Frank with some 
bitterness. 

“ Oh, my dear, do n’t speak so scornfully. 
You may be sure there is good in your Aunt 
Margaret as in everybody else, and some day you 
may find it. Meantime is there not something 
you can do for Madge or Philip ? For, as I said 
just now, the best way to learn to care about 


152 


A Misunderstood Hero 


people is to seek to make them happy by some 
little deed of kindness, some timely favor, just as 
you brought me the flowers, you know. That 
broke all the ice between us. Now is there not 
something you can think of to do for Madge or 
Philip?” 

“ I always am good to Phil anyhow,” said 
Frank. “ I think too much of him to be bad to 
him. As for Madge, 1 do n’t know what I could 
do for her ; I hardly ever see her. And father, 
I ’d do anything in the world for him, but there ’s 
nothing I can do,” he ended with a sigh. 

“We may think of something by and by,” I 
said. “How about Kalph, laid up with his 
broken arm ? It would be a real kindness if you 
could while away some of his weary moments.” 

“But how could I, Miss Agatha? I never 
amused him when he was well, except by my 
lameness and by not seeing an inch before my 
nose, and he ’s not likely to be pleased with me 
when he ’s sick. Besides, he ’d like Philip better 
than me.” 

“ But I do n’t think Philip is with him very 
much,” I observed. “ Is there not something we 
could think of ? ” I continued, reflectively. 

“ Nothing which Philip could n’t do a thousand 
times better,” said Frank, disconsolately. “ Oh, 
there ’s one thing I can do which Phil can’t,” he 
went on in a moment, with a brighter expression. 
“ I can make up stories all day long. I always 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 153 

tell stories to Philip when he gets frightened in 
the dark.” 

“ What do you mean, Frank ? How does 
Philip get frightened ? ” 

“ Oh, at night, very often. Sometimes he can’t 
go to sleep because he’s so afraid when the 
light’s out. He’s always been so. Isn’t it 
queer ? But he does n’t want anybody to know 
it, and I ought n’t to have said that. Ho one 
knows it but me, and I just cuddle up close to 
him and keep him warm and tell him stories till 
he drops off to sleep. I love to make ’em up 
when I’m all alone and then tell them to him 
afterward.” 

“ But it seems so strange to hear that a boy 
like Philip, brave and manly enough to do what 
he did for Laddie the other day, should be timid 
in the dark. I cannot understand that,” said I, 
feeling perplexed. 

“ What was it about Laddie ? ” asked Frank, in 
surprise. 

“ Why, you know all about it — how he crept 
out and brought him back the other day when 
Laddie went out on the log. Wasn’t it a brave 
and noble act! How thankful you must have 
felt to Philip that he saved dear little Laddie ! ” 

Frank gave me a perplexed, astounded look. 

“ Did Philip tell that. Miss Agatha ? ” he asked 
presently. 

“ Why, certainly, he told us all about it the 


1^4 A Misunderstood Hero 

other day out on the lawn. Why should you be 
so surprised, Frank ? ” 

“ Was father there ? ” asked Frank. 

“ Yes, indeed, and very proud and pleased he 
was, as we all were, for it was a noble thing to 
do. Do you not think so too, Frank ? ” 

“Think what?” said Frank, still with that 
strange, confused manner upon him. 

“ Do you not think it was a noble act to save 
Laddie as he did ? You were there. Were you 
not thankful to get Laddie back ? ” 

Frank stooped and picked up the dog at his 
feet and held him close in his arms. 

“Yes,” he said in a low tone, “I was glad 
Laddie was saved.” But his face had suddenly 
clouded over with an expression of anger and 
disgust which I could not understand. Was it 
that he was envious of his brother’s bravery and 
the praise bestowed upon him ? We sat silent a 
moment, Frank with that scowl still on his face. 

“ Frank,” I began presently, “ I must say some- 
thing more to you, dear. Can it be that I see 
another of those terrible giants walking this 
way? The giant of Envy and Jealousy? Oh, 
my little lad, look out for him ! Do n’t let him 
come. You must not be jealous of your 
brother.” 

“ It is not that I am jealous of Philip,” said 
Frank, quickly. He raised his head proudly, and 
there was a sudden kindling in his eyes as be 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 155 

spoke. “ I may sometimes have envied my 
brother and wished that I could have been born 
like him, but not to-day.” Then he stopped and 
would say no more, but I saw that he still carried 
his head high, and the proud look remained in 
his eyes. 

I could not understand it at all, and a little 
silence rose between us. A cloud had passed 
across the sun, the birds had suddenly ceased to 
sing ; somehow we had become chilled and sad- 
dened. 

At last I threw off the feeling of depression 
and began to speak of Ealph again. Frank 
promised that he would try to become better ac- 
quainted with the sick boy, and to that end 
would tell him stories, if Ealph were willing to 
be amused in that manner. 

“ It will be so hard for me to begin, though. 
Miss Agatha,” he said. “ Won’t you help me 
about it a little ? ” 

“ I certainly will, my dear. I will tell Ealph 
about it beforehand and pave the way for you as 
well as I can. And I believe that when once you 
have opened your shell and let Ealph know you 
as you really are, you and he will become good 
friends. By and %, too, there may come ways 
in which you can do some little thing for Madge 
and Gertrude and even for your father. Who 
knows? Some chance may come quite unex- 
pectedly. And if you do not shut yourself up 


156 A Misunderstood Hero 

any longer, but try to look pleasant and inter- 
ested in what is going on, perhaps even putting 
in a word now and then when we are all talking 
together, as you can if you will only make up 
your mind to it, why, after awhile they will be- 
gin to notice it and think what a change has 
come over you, and what a kind, good, bright 
boy you have become all at once. And when 
you find yourself growing gloomy and lonesome, 
you must just faithfully try my little recipe for 
happiness, my dear. Soon you will see that it 
works well, and that you are feeling like a differ- 
ent boy.” 

Frank promised gravely that he would try. 
“Because you want me to. Miss Agatha,” he 
said. Then we rose from our seats at the door- 
way of the castle and quietly wended our way 
homeward. 

I remembered my promise to prepare Kalph 
for his unexpected visitor, and next morning 
called upon that restless young invalid, bright 
and early. He answered my usual inquiries with 
a glum countenance. Things were not going 
right with him at all. He wished to get up, and 
the doctor was not willing that he should. There 
was no one at hand just then to amuse him and 
“ not a book within a hundred miles that was fit 
to read.” 

Here was my opportunity. 

“ How would you like to have Frank Sinclair 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 157 

come in to see you, and do what he can to amuse 
you ? ” I asked. 

Ealph looked at me in some surprise. ^^FrcmTc 
Sinclair ! Phil, you mean,” he answered. “ I ’d 
like to have Phil, if he would, but he won’t. I 
have n’t seen him in three days. He just stays 
out of this room as if it was a fiery furnace, and 
so it is, for that matter,” said Ealph, thrashing 
about on the bed. 

“ But Frank will come if you will let him,” I 
explained. “ And I have learned that he is a 
great boy for making up stories. He often tells 
them to Philip, and I believe you would enjoy 
them, too. Let him come, dear Ealph, and be 
kind to him. Eeally, he is a very different boy 
from what you have believed him to be. I love 
him dearly, and I wish you to like him too.” 

Ealph consented, though I feared somewhat re- 
luctantly. “ Anything is better than lying here 
counting those five spots on the ceiling from now 
till dinner-time,” he said, rather ungraciously. 

I hastened to find Frank, and with some mis- 
givings left the two boys together. Judge then 
of my gratification, when at dinner Frank ap- 
peared with a flush on his cheek and a bright, 
triumphant look in his eyes. 

‘‘ He was as good as he could be, Miss Agatha,” 
he whispered. “ I had a jolly good time with 
him, after all.” 

Later in the day I visited Ealph again and 


158 A Misunderstood Hero 

heard quite a glowing report from him also of 
the morning’s proceedings. 

“ He tells the jolliest stories you ever heard, 
Miss Agatha,” he declared. “ How any one could 
ever believe Frank Sinclair was next door to an 
idiot, I do n’t see.” 

“ No one ever did think so but you, Kalph,” I 
answered indignantly. 

“ Well, anyway, I thought they all thought so. 
But it is n’t true. He ’s just as bright as he can 
be, and he did n’t put on that glare of his once. 
I just liked him for coming in and helping me 
out as he did, and when I get well I ’m going to 
make up to him for the way I ’ve treated him. 
You see if I do n’t. He ’s coming to-morrow, 
and every day till I ’m on my feet again. And, 
Miss Agatha, I want to tell you how I feel about 
Aunt Mirny, too. I do n’t see how she can be so 
kind, but she makes the nicest things for me to 
eat, only I am ashamed to eat ’em, but I have to 
’cause they ’re so good. I just wish I never had 
cut off Sinner’s pigtails,” and the boy hid his 
face in his pillow. 

“Never mind, Kalph dear,” I said. “Aunt 
Mimy has forgotten all that. She asks every 
day how ‘little Redhead’ is, for she will call 
you that, Kalph.” 

“ I do n’t care what she calls me,” said Ralph 
from the pillow. “ I know I ’ll never make fun 
of her again.” 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 159 

“ That ’s right, my dear,” I said heartily, pat- 
ting the back of his head, which was all I could 
find to pat. 

“ Ealph,” I whispered to him, after a moment, 
“do you know that I think you did find your 
feelings after all, up in the woods that day ? ” 

Ealph was silent a moment. Then he said : 
“ But I do n’t like ’em. Miss Agatha. They make 
me feel all sorts of ways.” He laughed through 
his tears. 

“Never mind, dear. You will see more and 
more that they are good things to have, and by 
and by as you learn, through what you yourself 
experience, how easy it is to make others happy 
or unhappy, you will be more anxious to help 
people instead of hindering them, and so you 
will grow into that noble, earnest, helpful boy 
that all your friends must wish you to become.” 

“ I ’ll try. Miss Agatha,” said Ealph, quite 
humbly. 

As may be imagined, it was a happy day, not 
only for Ealph and his own people, but for the 
whole household as well, when that impatient 
young invalid was at length released from his im- 
prisonment and, as he expressed it, “ fairly out 
on his ten toes once more.” Everybody was 
glad to see the little red head glancing in the 
sunshine, as its owner hurried about from one 
spot to another, revisiting all the old favorite 
haunts, in Philip’s company, of course, for the 


i6o A Misunderstood Hero 

two had at once resumed the old ties of playfel- 
lowship and were as much together as ever. 

He seemed quite the same careless boy as of old, 
and yet I fancied there was a little change, that 
he did not entirely forget the graver thoughts 
which had come to him in his illness, that he still 
remembered his promise “ to try,” which he had 
made in such good faith. Certain it was that 
now Aunt Mirny was safe from all his mischiev- 
ous attacks. In fact it was observed by all of us 
that she and Kalph were on a footing of the 
most cordial friendliness once more, the boy run- 
ning in and out of her kitchen as freely as he 
liked and was even allowed to play with “ Sinner ” 
herself, tossing her and her brother “ Saint ” 
about on the various little haycocks piled up on 
the lawn, along with his own brother Johnny, 
and making the evening air ring with the shrill 
laughter of the happy children. 

There was plenty of mirth and mischief about 
Kalph yet, but I could not help believing that it 
was more kindly in its nature than it had been 
hitherto, and my heart warmed toward the 
merry boy, as I watched him flying about from 
one thing to another, even if it were only “ fun ” 
on which his mind was bent from morning till 
night. 

Philip, too, was at his gayest and brightest now 
that he had his friend back, and it was not 
strange that soon Frank should seem to lose the 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon i6i 

foothold he had lately gained with both of the 
boys. Not that this was intentional on their 
part. Certainly Ealph did not mean to neglect 
the new friend who had lately whiled away 
many of his dull hours with the stories he called 
so “ jolly.” He was still very gentle and kind 
to Frank, and sometimes I saw the two sitting 
on the old stump wdth their arms round each 
other’s shoulders, or perhaps at table they would 
now and then hold little quiet conversations, 
showing that they were still good friends. But 
it was to be expected that as the active boy 
grew strong again he should seek his own kind, 
as it were, and he and Philip were natural 
mates. 

Frank seemed silently to acquiesce in the new, 
or rather the old order of things, and gradually 
withdrew into his own former habits. He was 
always ready for a walk or chat with me, to 
whom he was as confiding and loving as ever, 
but otherwise he was generally alone, spending 
much of his time at his “ castle ” with only his 
books and Laddie for companions. 

Still I could see that the dear boy tried not to 
be morbid and sad, though it was impossible that 
he could help feeling lonely. Once or twice I 
had seen him go up to Madge of his own accord 
and speak to her in a shy, wistful way that 
seemed strange between brother and sister. 
One day he showed her something in a book he 


i 62 


A Misunderstood Hero 


was reading. Madge seemed surprised for the 
moment at this unusual action on his part and 
glanced where he pointed, kindly enough, it is 
true, but with little apparent interest. In a mo- 
ment she rose, with a careless word or two, and 
carrying her book with her, went into the house. 
I saw Frank scowl and could scarcely wonder 
at the old, sullen look which came to his face. 
He had done his best and it had amounted to 
nothing. He had tried to interest his sister and 
she had not cared. 

I could not see how Madge, who seemed such 
a bright, warm-hearted girl in most things, could 
be so cruelly indifferent toward her brother. 
But she was young, and probably did not dream 
how she had wounded the feelings of the lonely 
child whom she had never understood. 

Again, on another day I witnessed a little 
scene which touched my heart still more. Mr. 
Sinclair lay reading in a hammock. Presently I 
observed Frank at some distance looking at his 
father with a wistful expression in his eyes. He 
held something in his hand. I thought I knew 
what it was, for the day before he had found a 
remarkably perfect arrow-head with which he 
had been much pleased. I believed it was this 
little treasure which he was now trying to find 
sufficient courage to show to his father, longing 
and yet fearing to go to him, too anxious to 
make his first advance toward a better under- 


Miss Agatha Preaches a Little Sermon 163 

standing to think of retreat, and yet too timid at 
the thought of being repulsed to venture nearer. 

Poor child ! My own heart was beating hard 
when he suddenly compressed his lips and lifted 
his head, as if saying to himself, “ I will,” and 
quickly limped over the ground to his father’s 
side. I wondered what the father would say. 
Would he seem interested, and keep the boy with 
him? 

Oh, no ! When Frank held out his hand say- 
ing some few words, Mr. Sinclair raised his 
eyes from his book and glanced at the boy with 
a slightly bored expression. Then, as Frank 
continued to hold out his specimen, he looked at 
it carelessly a moment and said something which 
I knew as well as if I had heard it, was a remark 
like this : 

“ Yes, very pretty. But run away now. I am 
busy,” at the same time waving him off with his 
hand. 

Oh, the shame, the deep humiliation on the 
boy’s face, the bitter grief of the trembling 
lips, as he threw the arrow-head as far as he 
could send it, and suddenly flinging himself 
about, sped away swiftly toward the moun- 
tain path, to be seen no more by any of us till 
night ! 

I almost felt persuaded to rush out on the 
lawn and tell that cruel father for once what I 
thought of him. I wanted to hold before his 


A Misunderstood Hero 


164 

mind’s eye the picture of the despairing little face, 
and make him realize how cruelly he was wound- 
ing the little lad whom his wife had left with 
such tender injunctions in his care. Frank’s little 
overture of friendship was not so much rejected 
as coldly ignored by the one from whom, above all 
others, he had the right to expect loving consid- 
eration and sympathy. However, before I could 
have put my impulse into action, John Dale came 
up and carried Mr. Sinclair off to some distant 
part of the farm, and I could only strengthen my 
resolve to seek an early opportunity to talk to the 
latter concerning what I more and more con- 
sidered his mistaken training of his two sons. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE ASCENT OF MOUNT LOERINGTON 

The king of the mountain peaks by which we 
were surrounded was Mount Lorrington. It was 
four miles distant, and known as the highest 
mountain in that region. Almost at its very top 
was an immense ledge of rock which formed 
a table-like projection upon which one could stand 
and view a wondrous scene far, far below. It 
was said that on a clear day half a dozen counties 
were plainly visible from it. Xor was the view 
from its summit the only attraction which this 
mountain held for tourists, for the whole ascent 
was rendered interesting by a succession of deep 
ravines, gloomy rocks and tortuous streams com- 
bined with lovely forest roads and trees of 
immense growth, — altogether forming the wildest 
and most beautiful scenery in that part of the 
country. 

Every one who came to Glen Elsworth was 
expected to visit Mount Lorrington at least once 
during the summer, and the young people had 
now decided that our time had come. 

“ We shall never enjoy it more than now, when 
it is so hot down here. See how cool it looks up 
165 


i66 


A Misunderstood Hero 


there, almost in the clouds,” said Madge, pointing 
to the mass of purple foliage on Mount Lorring- 
ton’s top, with the broad, flat rock plainly in view, 
though softened by the distance to lovely blue- 
gray tints. 

“ Let us start bright and early to-morrow 
morning,” she went on ; “ father. Aunt Margaret, 
Miss Agatha, everybody. Let us stay all day and 
come home in the moonlight, for it is full moon 
now. How lovely that will be ! ” 

“ I fear you must leave me out,” said I, “ for I 
could never walk so far.” 

“ But we will none of us walk,” said Gertrude. 
“We will go on horseback.” 

“ Oh, jolly ! ” said Philip, dancing about with 
delight. “ That will be best of all, to go up there 
on horseback.” 

“ But even so you must leave me behind,” 
I protested. For I knew my own timid nature 
quite too well to think of trusting myself on 
a horse’s back. “ I could never ride in my young 
days,” said I, “and should not dare to begin now.” 

“ Then you shall go up on a mule. Miss Aga- 
tha,” said Mrs. Dale. “ Nothing can be safer or 
surer-footed than one of the mules about the 
farm. They spend their lives going up and down 
the mountain roads, drawing the loads of bark. 
They could not fall if they tried, so you shall go 
on a mule, for we could not think of leaving you 
behind.” 


The Ascent of Mount Lorrington 167 

All the young people laughed at the idea of 
my going on the mule, but 1 did not care for the 
look of the thing if it were only safe, and when 
John Dale and Mr. Sinclair, who both wished to 
walk, promised to march in turn at the head of 
my gallant steed I gladly consented to form one 
of the party, for I was as anxious as anybody to 
view the wonders of Mount Lorrington. 

As it turned out, this was the wisest arrange- 
ment we could have made, for there were not 
horses enough to go around, and Ealph and 
Philip were obliged, after all, to forego the glory 
of making the ascent on horseback, and had like- 
wise to make up their minds to a humble mule. 
They could not even have the whole of that, but 
must take their turns at sitting perched upon the 
animal’s back in front of two large hampers con- 
taining our dinner. 

This did not suit our young gentlemen very 
well, nor did they submit to their fate without a 
pout or two, but finally agreed to make the best 
of it. I saw them a little later in close conversa- 
tion with John Dale about something which 
seemed to delight them very much, judging from 
the manner in which they were rolling over on 
the grass and behaving like crazy boys. I won- 
dered what it could be, for John Dale was usu- 
ally a very sedate young man and not given to 
much merrymaking, with the children, at all 
events, but I soon forgot it, for my mind was upon 


i68 


A Misunderstood Hero 


poor Frank ; my own pleasure in the trip being 
sadly marred by the thought that he was not to 
make one of the party. ISTo one had suggested 
his going, and as there would be no horse or even 
mule for him, and he could not walk, it seemed 
inevitable that he must remain at home. I 
feared he might feel wounded at being so com- 
pletely left out of everybody’s thoughts, but if he 
was, he was too proud to show it. Indeed, a lit- 
tle later in the day when I had a chance to speak 
to him about the matter, he assured me that he 
would rather remain quietly at home reading one 
of his books. He had just started on the journey 
with “Alice in Wonderland,” and knew he 
should like that far better than to journey with 
us to the top of Mount Lorrington. So he said, 
trying to speak bravely and cheerfully, but I 
fancied there was a hurt look in his eyes, and 
though I said little, I resolved that the day 
should come when Frank should have his “ good 
times ” with the best of them, if I could bring it 
about. 

We were all up bright and early next morning, 
and by seven o’clock had eaten our breakfast and 
were gathered on the porch. Everybod}’^ was 
chattering, and the young people, especially, were 
asking all sorts of questions and paying no atten- 
tion whatever to the answers. Even Mrs. Todd 
and her sisters were going, venturing to leave 
Johnny, who had faithfully promised to be good 


The Ascent of Mount Lorrington 169 

and to stay contentedly with Lorena, the black 
chambermaid, in consideration of the agreement 
entered into by each and every one of us to give 
him “ sumpin’ nice ” upon our return. Mrs. 
Archer actually unbent so far as to say that there 
was something pretty in her trunk for him, and 
Mr. Sinclair, also, when Johnny looked to him 
for his share in the general contribution, 
boldly promised to produce something from 
his trunk, too, or his pocket, or somewhere. 
The fact was that we were all Johnny’s slaves 
and only too thankful to be allowed to bear 
off his mamma and aunties upon such easy 
terms. 

By half-past seven we were mounted, all the 
other women on horseback and I on my humble 
mule. Kalph brought up the rear on the other 
mule, sitting before the two hampers which were 
firmly strapped to the animal’s back and which 
Aunt Mirny, with much jabbering and expostu- 
lation, warned “little Bedhead” to “min’ an’ 
look out fer.” 

Good, fat old Aunt Mirny ! Nobody knew how 
late she had sat up the night before, roasting the 
chickens and baking the delicious biscuits, pies 
and cakes which she had felt obliged to prepare, 
even upon such short notice, and which we pres- 
ently expected to devour far, far up the northern 
mountain whose purple outline stood out sharp 
and clear against the soft morning sky. She stood 


lyo A Misunderstood Hero 

in her kitchen door now, calling out some merry 
parting word, her hands on her hips, her turban 
all askew, her face one broad grin. By her side 
was Lorena holding up Johnny for a last good- 
bye. Bound them were grouped all the woolly 
heads, great and small, belonging to the farm. 
Only Frank was absent. 

“ Good luck ! good luck ! ” they shouted, and 
Aunt Mirny took off her slipper and flung it after 
us with all her strength, quite as if we had been 
a bridal party setting forth from the paternal 
door. It landed squarely on Mr. Sinclair’s back 
and was heavy enough to have caused some pain. 
If it did, he did not mind, but turned around and 
playfully shook his cane at Aunt Mirny and with 
a merry nod passed on, for he, too, seemed in- 
fected with the spirit of jollity which was abroad 
among us that morning. 

We passed through some bars and across a 
pasture, then on to an old bark road which led 
through woods where I had never been before. 
Just as the road began to ascend the hill and the 
trees and bushes grew more dense, I chanced to 
glance aside, and there, shielded among the leaves, 
was Frank. 

He sat quietly on an old log, gazing at us in a 
way which sent a pain through my heart. There 
was no help for it, but all day the sad little face 
kept rising before me, and bringing the tears to 
my eyes. 


The Ascent of Mount Lorrington 171 

On and on we went, picking our way over the 
rough road which was barely wide enough in 
places to allow us to go in single file. Every now 
and then we stopped to examine some rare plant 
or bit of moss, or to exclaim with delight as a 
view more beautiful than the last met our eyes. 
Gradually the ascent became more steep and the 
forest more dense, until finally we were sur- 
rounded by trees of a uniform height and of im- 
mense growth. 

The old bark road wound in and out among the 
rocks and rough underbrush, over brooks and 
marshy places, but always ascending higher and 
higher up the mountainside, until at length, 
after half an hour’s climbing, we came to 
the mouth of a deep ravine, through which 
flowed a remarkably clear stream. Steep, dark 
walls now rose upon both sides, and our road 
became still more narrow, twisting among the 
rocks, and crossing and recrossing the little 
brook. 

After we had gone on for half a mile through 
this narrow gorge, we all dismounted and sat 
down to rest and to gaze at our strange surround- 
ings, grand and even terrible in their sublimity. 
Great rocky walls closed about us, and towered 
several hundred feet above our heads. In every 
little crevice grew ferns and small shrubs. Even 
trees had found a root-hold and hung out over 
the ravine at a dizzy height. 


172 A Misunderstood Hero 

I thought of the words of Scott : 

“ The primrose pale and violet flower 
Found in each clift a narrow bower ; 
***** 

“ And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, 

Where seemed the clifEs to meet on high. 

His boughs athwart the narrowed sky.” 

As we sat there a feeling of awe came over us. 
Even the voices of the children were hushed. 
There was no wind. A deep silence, save for the 
faint noise of the brook at our feet, brooded over 
everything. Looking back, we could see the nar- 
row defile shut in by lofty walls of dark, jagged 
rocks, so high that only a gloomy twilight reached 
the pathway over which we had come. 

Great scars in the sides of the cliffs showed 
where masses of stone had been detached by the 
frosts of winter and had fallen into the depths 
below. Who could tell which of the others might 
even now be trembling to their fall! It was 
a relief when Madge suddenly started up, saying : 

“ Oh, let us go ! It is grand ! It is beautiful, 
and all that, but oh, it is too dreadful ! ” 

In silence we mounted and again moved on- 
ward. Soon the space between the walls began 
to widen, the rocks became lower, and in another 
quarter of an hour we had emerged from the 
gloomy, frowning chasm, and once more felt the 
warmth and brightness of the sunlight about us. 





Ascending the mountain 











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The Ascent of Mount Lorrington 1 73 

“ What about going home by moonlight now, 
Miss Madge,” said John Dale, slyly. “Shall we 
go through the gorge to-night ? ” 

“ Oh, never I ” exclaimed Madge, who looked 
pale and half frightened yet. 

“ 'Noy indeed,” said Mr. Sinclair. “ No moon 
could guide our steps through that dark abyss. 
We must get quickly to the summit and go home 
before sunset.” 

“ There is another way home, not quite so in- 
teresting but much shorter,” said John. “We 
need not go through the gorge again if we do 
not wish to.” 

We all agreed that though it was wonderful in 
its wild, rugged grandeur, and we were glad to 
have seen it, we would by all means choose the 
other road for our return. 

We toiled merrily on for half an hour or so, 
until we reached a spot where a narrow bridle- 
path led from the road. Gertrude and Madge, 
who were in advance, passed by without heeding 
this, urging their horses to a brisker trot over the 
level stretch which lay before them. The rest of 
the party were following when John Dale, who 
walked by my mule’s head, suddenly called 
out : 

“ Hello, Gertrude, come back. Where are you 
going ? ” 

Gertrude turned her horse and looked at her 
brother in surprise. “Up to the top, of course,” 


174 ^ Misunderstood Hero 

she said. “ This is the way we always go, is n’t 
it?” 

“Yes, but don’t let us go that way to-day. 
Come up this path. It will take us to the top 
sooner than the other road. I found that out 
this spring.” 

“ But it is not nearly so good a road,” said his 
mother, “and the woods are so beautiful along the 
other way. I think we had better keep to that.” 

John still insisted that the new route was the 
better, and Philip and Kalph put in their word, 
too, and declared with the greatest eagerness that 
it was the quickest road, and the best, and “ a 
thousand times the shadiest.” 

“Why, how can you possibly know,” said 
Philip’s father, “when you have never been 
there ? ” 

“ 'No, but we know it is,” said the boys, look- 
ing a little confused, for some unexplained reason. 
Philip, who was now on the mule, suddenly 
started up that sedate animal, and led the way 
up the hill for a short way, and Kalph danced 
along at his side, calling to everybody to come 
on, while John Dale, too, turned my mule in the 
direction he wanted him to take, and with a merry 
command to the rest of the party, said : 

“Yes, come on. I’m going to have my way 
for once. You won’t be sorry. This path leads 
out to another road in a few moments, as good as 
this, and there ’s a beautiful little grove half a 


The Ascent of Mount Lorrington 175 

mile farther up, just the place for us to eat our 
dinner. Come on,” he shouted. 

Gertrude, who knew that the old road was very 
lovely, was loath to turn about, and Mrs. Dale 
also looked somewhat reluctant to venture up on 
a new and untried way, but as John and the boys 
seemed to have set their hearts upon it, they both 
turned their horses’ heads and followed our lead, 
John and I now heading the cavalcade and push- 
ing through the bushes and low-growing branches, 
while Philip and the others came after us in 
single file. 

For my own part, I did not care which way we 
went if only we could soon come to that beauti- 
ful grove, or to some other comfortable spot 
where I could dismount and rest for even the 
briefest time. In a little while, however, we did 
pass through the thick woods out to a well-worn 
road, as John had said, and a few more rods 
carried us on to the grove. 

This was a broad table-land set about with tall 
chestnut-trees. There was scarcely any under- 
brush, and the ground was comparatively smooth 
and covered with a thick growth of grass, re- 
freshing for our eyes to rest upon after the long 
stretch of rough road we had just passed over. 
There were a number of old logs lying about, 
and here and there stood huge blocks of wood 
cut long ago by some forgotten woodman, and 
left to whiten in the sun. 


A Misunderstood Hero 


176 

It was an ideal dining-room, and, apparently, 
others besides ourselves had found it so, for under 
four great trees whose branches made a shady 
canopy, some one had placed a broad board across 
two huge stumps, and there even now were the 
tokens of recent visitors, in a tin cup and two 
glasses left upon this rudely constructed table. 

We were all ready for dinner, though it was 
early yet; and, while Mrs. Dale and Gertrude 
bustled about and spread the table in picnic fash- 
ion, taking out, one after another, the good things 
which Aunt Mirny had provided, the others sat 
about at ease. Mr. Sinclair and John Dale 
stretched themselves at full length on the grass. 
Philip and Kalph retired to the edge of the bushes, 
where they were holding an absorbing confab 
about something ; and Madge perched herself on 
the top of a tree stump, from which she looked 
down upon us all, and joined merrily in whatever 
conversation was flying about. 

When Mrs. Dale and Gertrude had the board, 
literally the board, nicely spread with a bountiful 
dinner, they made coffee over a little fire which 
Philip and Ealph tended with the greatest care, 
and compounded a huge pitcher of lemonade to 
which Madge had lent a helping hand. 

I cannot stop to dwell on the details of our 
dinner, though I would like to do so, for it was a 
good one, over which we lingered long, praising 
Aunt Mirny in a way which, if she could only 


The Ascent of Mount Lorrington 177 

have heard us, would have made her fat cheeks 
puff out and her twinkling eyes and firm white 
teeth shine with delight. Even after we could 
eat no more, we still sat on, talking of a thousand 
things, while Mrs. Dale and Aunt Jessie cleared 
away the dishes. Suddenly we missed the boys. 
They had been with us shortly before, but now 
they were nowhere to be seen. 

“ Where can they be ? ” said Mrs. Todd, 
anxiously, and Mrs. Archer looked somewhat 
alarmed when Mr. Sinclair called aloud and 
received no answer but the echo of his own 
voice. 

“Oh, they are all right,” said John Dale 
quickly. “ I saw them when they went off. 
They are just up the hill there a little way.” 
Then he asked Madge and Gertrude to go with 
him to hunt them up, as they were willing 
enough to do, for it was a pretty, winding path 
through beautiful woods to which he led the 
way. 

Meanwhile we sat on, calmly enjoying our 
pleasant grove and comfortable seats, while we 
waited for the young people’s return. 

Presently down the path rushed Madge, her 
long braids streaming behind her, her round, 
rosy face beaming with pleasure and excitement, 
her feet fairly flying over the loose stones in her 
haste to get to us. Gertrude followed after her 
not one whit less excited than she, and John 


178 A Misunderstood Hero 

brought up the rear, more sedately, it is true, 
but looking pleased and eager nevertheless. 

“Oh,” cried Madge, in short, quick breaths, 
“ get up, every one of you, and come with us. 
We have found a cave, a wonderful cave with 
real little people living in it. Come on, quick ! ” 


CHAPTER X 


THE LITTLE 8ISTEKS OF THE MOUNTAIN 

When Madge came rushing down the moun- 
tain path in such headlong fashion, with her 
cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with excite- 
ment, we all looked at her and at each other in 
astonishment. What did the child mean ? She 
might indeed have found a cave, but was it likely 
that there were real people who lived in it in 
this lonely mountain far away from all human 
kind? 

“ Oh, come, do hurry I ” said she, rushing into 
our midst and seizing her father’s hand. “ Come, 
they are waiting up there for us ! ” 

“ My daughter,” said Mr. Sinclair, “ take breath 
and tell us what you have found, and all about 
it.” 

Thus admonished, Madge obediently drew a 
long breath, and standing before her father, en- 
deavored to quiet herself and enter upon her 
story with more composure. 

“ I ’ll tell you as fast as I can,” she said, “ for 
they want us to come up there.” 

“ Who want us to come ? ” asked her father. 

“ The two Little Sisters ” 

179 


i8o A Misunderstood Hero 

“ The little sisters ? ” 

“Yes, the Little Sisters of the Mountain. 
That’s what they call themselves. But I’ll 
begin at the beginning. You know Mr. Dale 
asked Gertrude and me to go up there,” pointing 
to the path, “ to hunt for the boys. So after we 
had gone a little way we came to a place where 
the path ran right up against a steep, rocky wall 
of the mountain, something like that dreadful 
gorge we came through this morning, and Mr. 
Dale, who was going ahead, happened to see an 
opening in the rocks, with vines and bushes 
growing all about it. He pushed his stick in 
there and found a wide space behind the leaves. 
He wanted to go in and see what was there, but 
we did n’t like to have him, for fear there might 
be bears, or wildcats, or something, in there. 
But he would do it, and pretty soon he came out 
again and said it was a real cave, with a nice 
room in it all hollowed out of the rocks. It 
looked as if it had been lately swept, and was as 
clean as if somebody lived there, though he 
did n’t find any one. He said it was perfectly 
safe for us to go in, so, after all, we thought we ’d 
venture, and we all three went in together. 

“ It ’s a curious place, as you will say when 
you see it. There are stone walls all around it 
and a stone roof, and the light comes in through 
a great crack in the rocks over the entrance. 
We walked all about it, and in one corner we 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain i8i 

found another wide crack in the wall. We 
looked through it, and there was a second cham- 
ber almost as large as the one we were in, only 
it wasn’t light like that. And what do you 
think we found there ? ” asked Madge, her eyes 
wide with excitement. ‘‘It had an old table 
in it like any common kitchen table, and on the 
table was a lighted candle, for it would have 
been dark in there without it, and some old tin 
plates and a cup or two. There were two big 
stumps on the floor, just like the one you ’re on, 
father, and on these stumps sat two of the 
queerest looking old women you ever saw in all 
your lives. They were the tiniest old women, 
real little dwarfs, and their heads and hands 
shook as if they were a hundred years old.” 

“ And they were bundled up in old shawls and 
pieces of blankets,” put in Gertrude, “ and had 
their faces bound up in rags and old, faded silk 
handkerchiefs, because the cave was so damp it 
gave them earache and toothache, they said.” 

“Yes,” continued Madge, “and one of them 
was darning an old stocking, and the other 
seemed to be trying to knit, though her hands 
shook so, I do n’t see how she could manage that. 
Gertrude and I wanted to go back when we saw 
them, for we felt a little afraid, but Mr. Dale 
went up and spoke to them, and they got off 
their stools and made the funniest little bows, 
and offered him their seats, and seemed delighted 


A Misunderstood Hero 


182 

to see him. Then they began to talk, and looked 
at us, and he beckoned to us to come up too. So 
we all talked together, and they told us about 
themselves, and it ^s the strangest thing you ever 
heard. They say they have been in the moun- 
tain for fifty years ” 

“Now, Madge, what are you trying to make 
us believe ? ” said her father. “ You are making 
this up, and trying to play some silly joke on 
us.” 

“ No, indeed ! ” said Madge, indignantly. “ It 
is every word of it true.” 

“ There might easily enough be a cave,” said 
Mr. Sinclair. “I should think there might be 
any number of caves in these mountains, but do 
you truly say you have seen two little dwarf 
women up there who have lived in that cave for 
fifty years ?” Here he looked at John Dale. 

“That’s certainly what they told us,” said 
John. “I know it sounds queer, but there they 
are, and you can see them for yourself in fifteen 
minutes, if you will walk up that path.” 

“ Yes, and they tell fortunes,” said Gertrude, 
excitedly. “They said they would tell all our 
fortunes if you would only come up, and we told 
them we would bring you.” 

“Now, my dear girls, I hope you do n’t believe 
that nonsense. You are too sensible to believe 
in fortune-telling,” expostulated Mr. Sinclair. 

“ Yes, I suppose so,” said Gertrude, doubtfully. 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 1 83 

“ Still, it ’s very strange how they knew so much 
about us. They knew we had two men in our 
party, and they said there were five ladies sitting 
down in the grove, waiting for us, and how 
could they tell that ? ” 

“ Why, they saw us, of course,” said Mr. Sin- 
clair. “ That is simple enough.” 

“ I do n’t think so,” said Gertrude, refiectively. 
“ One of them was sewing and the other was 
knitting, and they looked as if they had n’t 
stirred off of their stools for hours.” 

“ Besides,” said Madge, triumphantly, “ why 
did they tell me to go and bring my father ? 
How did they know one of the men was my 
father ? ” 

“ That was a safe enough guess,” replied Mr. 
Sinclair, “if they really saw us.” 

“ And why did they tell Mr. Dale that he 
never would get the wish he made at dinner, when 
he broke the wish-bone with me, unless he brought 
his mother and the other ladies to have their 
fortunes told ? ” asked Madge. 

“ Did they actually say that ? ” asked Mr. Sin- 
clair, looking incredulously at John. 

“Yes, indeed,” answered John. “Everything 
happened as the girls have said, though I own it 
looks queer. I advise you all to come up and see 
the old crones for yourselves. Perhaps we can 
solve the mystery in some way.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Sinclair, getting up, “per- 


A Misunderstood Hero 


184 

haps we might as well go. ]^ot that any human 
being could make me believe in such nonsense. 
And if I thought any one could peer into my 
future or into that of my children, I would be 
the last one to let them do so. Still, I own I feel 
a little curious.” 

“ Well, then,” said Madge, seizing her father's 
hand again, “do come. And come, everybody. 
It ’s only a little way up the hill.” 

Of course the rest of us were too wise to 
believe in the fortune-telling nonsense, but it 
seemed that there were really two strange old 
women in a cave a little way up the mountain, 
for these young people were evidently very much 
in earnest about it. So as we were not without 
our own share of curiosity, we prepared to 
follow Mr. Sinclair and the eager guides as 
quickly as possible. 

Before we had gone more than a few steps, 
however, the errand upon which the young 
people had started an hour before, occurred to 
our minds, and somebody said : 

“ What about Philip and Ealph ? Did you see 
anything of them ? ” 

“ Oh, we never once thought of them,” said 
Madge, stopping short in the path. “We were 
so taken up with the cave we forgot all about 
the boys.” 

“But I thought of them,” said John Dale, 
“ and heard them, too. They are just up in the 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 185 

mountain a little way. I heard their voices 
close at hand. They are all right, and having a 
good time up there by themselves. Do n’t worry 
about the boys,” he added carelessly. 

“ They ’d like to see the little old women, too,” 
said his mother. “We had better call them.” 

“ Oh, I would n’t stop now,” said John hastily. 
“ I ’ll go up where they are presently. Or per- 
haps they ’ll see us when we get to the cave.” 

We walked on through the pleasant woods till 
we came to the rocky mountainside, of which 
Madge had told us, and there we found the open- 
ing of the cave half concealed by vines and 
bushes as she had said. It was high enough for 
us to pass within quite easily, though Mr. Sinclair 
and John and even Mrs. Archer were obliged to 
stoop a little. 

We looked about the first chamber, though 
there was not much to see except the damp stone 
walls and the cleanly swept floor, and then we 
peeped through the wide crack in the opposite 
wall into the next room. 

Yes, it was all as the girls had said. There, 
indeed, sat two small old women, so huddled 
together over their table, and so bundled up in 
their blankets and shawls, that, in the dim light of 
the single candle, we could scarcely have told 
that they were human beings at all if we had 
come upon them without any previous prepara- 
tion. 


i86 


A Misunderstood Hero 


When they heard us at the entrance of their 
chamber, they immediately arose from their seats 
and began a series of jerky little bows, until 
John Dale, who at once assumed the leadership 
of our little party, helped us through the narrow 
passage and escorted us up to the strange little 
women, making some polite introductory remark 
to them as he did so. 

They were indeed very singular looking peo- 
ple, though in fact very little could be seen of 
them, for they were so enveloped in their un- 
usual amount of clothing that only a portion of 
their faces and their hands was visible. They 
wore old, faded gingham frocks, which lay on the 
floor and concealed their feet. Closely wrapped 
and pinned about them were the dusty, torn old 
shawls and blankets of which the girls had 
spoken. Their skin was brown as if they might 
have been Indians or gypsies, but their eyes, 
strange to say, were quite unlike the eyes of 
those races, those of one sister being large and 
dark blue, while the other had a pair of light 
gray, rather shrewd-looking eyes which peered 
out with a decided twinkle through the thick 
gray locks of hair which fell about their owner’s 
forehead and cheeks. 

This little sister had evidently been sewing 
upon an old piece of cloth, though I could not 
imagine what kind of a garment it could be. 
The other held the stocking she was knitting in 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 187 

her hand. They were much bent in form, and 
their heads and hands trembled with an un- 
steady motion, but their skin, at least so much 
of it as we could see, was not as wrinkled as one 
would expect in people so old as they claimed 
to be. 

They could not offer us seats, as there were 
only the two old stumps in the room, but they 
stood before us bowing politely, smiling and 
waving their hands, while John Dale proceeded 
to open a conversation. 

“Here we are, with the rest of our party,” 
said he, “ and we ’re all anxious to hear more of 
your strange story. Won’t you tell the others 
what you told us a while ago ? ” 

With that, the old woman with the blue eyes 
immediately started on her story in a high, pip- 
ing voice, the words tripping from her tongue as 
rapidly and smoothly as if they had been a lesson 
she had learned by heart, or as if she had spoken 
them so many times that now they came me- 
chanically without any effort on her part. 

“We are the Little Sisters of the Mountain,” 
she said, “ and we have lived here through wind 
and storm, through rain and shine, through 
winter’s snow and summer’s heat for fifty years. 
We were young maidens when first we came, 
with cheeks as fair and eyes as bright as those,” 
pointing to the two girls, who stood near gazing 
with the greatest eagerness upon the strange 


i88 


A Misunderstood Hero 


little speaker, ‘‘ and now see what we are. Time, 
and the winds and storms of the mountain have 
done their work upon us. They have bent our 
forms and silvered our heads ; they have taken 
from us the light feet with which we ran hither 
and thither up and down the mountain paths, 
and have left us instead the halting step of 
palsied age.” Here the old woman straightened 
herself up for the moment. “ But they have 
never touched our minds, nor have they stolen 
from us one jot of the lore we gained in our 
youth, that lore by which we tell the secrets of 
the past and present, that lore which teaches us 
to read in the lines of a man’s hand all the 
thoughts and actions which have r.uled his life 
and — and ” 

Here the old woman suddenly halted and took 
a long breath, whether because she was tired or 
had forgotten what words of her speech came 
next, I could not tell. It almost seemed as if it 
must be the latter, because for a moment she 
seemed confused, and I thought her sister moved 
uneasily. She was starting off again, however, 
when John Dale said somewhat hastily : 

“ Tell us about how you first came here. 
Little Sister.” 

“ Yes,” she said. It was when we were very 
young. We were with our tribe and were 
camped in some woods near a fine house far, 
far from here. One day a beautiful little child 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 189 

came out of that house and wandered into the 
woods, and some of the tribe stole it and brought 
it into the camp. They said they would keep 
it and sell its rich clothing and let it grow up as 
one of us, and they made everything ready to 
tear up the camp and steal away at once. But I 
and my sister here, we could not bear that this 
thing should be done, because we thought that 
we ourselves had once been stolen, too, and that 
we did not belong to the gypsies in the beginning 
any more than the little child did, and that 
made us sorry for it. And we thought of its 
people, too. So when we believed that no one 
saw us, we took it in its sleep and ran with it 
swiftly through the woods till we reached its fa- 
ther’s door. Then we started to return, but the 
gypsies had seen us, and they punished us — oh, 
how they punished us ! I cannot tell you about 
that. But when we thought we had borne all 
they meant us to bear, they brought us into this 
mountain, where we had often been before, and 
this time they left us here. They bound us 
with terrible oaths that we would not leave the 
mountain until they should say we might. That 
time has never come, and now we think it never 
will. 

“ Every two or three years they come here to 
us and bring us clothes to wear and things 
to eat. But they bind us again with the dread- 
ful oaths to stay till they come the next time. 


igo A Misunderstood Hero 

So here we have lived for fifty years, and here 
we shall live till we die. But now we do not 
mind, for we have grown to love our lonely 
mountain. It is like father and mother and 
sister and brother, all in one, to us now. But 
most of all we like to think of it as a great pro- 
tecting brother, and so we call ourselves the 
Little Sisters of the Mountain.” 

“ But how is it about your fortune-telling ? ” 
asked John. 

“ Oh, yes,” said the little sister. “ They force 
us to get money for them through our knowledge 
of the secrets of the past and future. Years ago, 
when we were young, they taught us this knowl- 
edge, and now we are obliged to use it when 
strangers come here to our mountain haunts. If 
we have no money for our tribe when they come, 
they beat us. They will soon come to us now, 
and we have no money this year, for until to-day 
no strangers have come this way. So please, 
sweet ladies and kind gentlemen,” said the old 
woman, suddenly becoming more businesslike, 
“ may we tell your fortunes ? There is such a 
beautiful fortune coming to that young lady. I 
can see it in her face, if she will only let me have 
her hand to guide me a little.” She hobbled up 
to Gertrude, and peered into her face. 

“Wait a bit,” said Mr. Sinclair, with a rather 
quizzical look. “ Do n’t be so fast. How are we 
to know that you can peer into the future until 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 191 

we have more than your word for it ? Better 
tell us something of the past first ; then we can 
put more faith in what you say of the 
future.” 

“ Very well,” said the old woman, nodding her 
head cheerfully. Ask what you please. I am 
ready.” 

“Well, let me see,” said Mr. Sinclair. “How 
many sisters has this girl ? ” drawing Madge 
toward him. 

“Ho sisters at all,” said the old woman, tossing 
her head scornfully, “ but twin brothers.” 

“Indeed,” said Mr. Sinclair, looking slightly 
puzzled. “ What is her father’s occupation ? ” 

“ A lawyer, of course. What silly questions,” 
said the little sister contemptuously, while the 
other sister gave a chuckle quickly suppressed. 

“ What is this girl’s name ? ” 

“ Margaret. She is named for that lady stand- 
ing next to you.” 

“Well, I must say I think this is very strange, 
do n’t you, brother ? ” asked Mrs. Archer. 

“ A little strange,” answered Mr. Sinclair, “ but 
let us go on. Tell me where I live.” 

“You live in a big, square brick house, ten 
miles from a great city. It has a little lake near 
it, and a green lawn round it.” 

“ Is that true ? ” I asked. 

Mr. Sinclair nodded, while Mrs. Archer ex- 
claimed, “ Most singular, I must say ! ” 


192 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ Who is this lady ? ” asked Mr. Sinclair, point- 
ing to Mrs. Todd. 

Here the old woman, drawing a long breath, 
turned to her sister. “Sister,” she said petu- 
lantly, “ why do n’t you say something ? You can 
tell all this silly stuff as well as I can. I’m 
tired.” 

“Oh, yes,” said the little gray-eyed sister, 
speaking for the first time. “ I know it all well 
enough.” 

I noticed that she finished her sentence in a 
high voice like her sister’s, but it seemed to me 
she had begun in a deeper key. 

“ Oh, yes,” she said. “ She is a lady who has 
lived in lots of places, and been on the ocean a 
good many times. Her husband is there now.” 

“ True enough,” said Mrs. Todd, looking around 
her in amazement. 

“And one of her boys broke his arm a little 
while ago, or perhaps it was his leg,” the little 
sister continued, as if not wishing to be too posi- 
tive. 

“Well, I think it is very queer,” whispered 
Madge. “ I ’m half afraid to have them tell my 
fortune now ; they know too much. Perhaps 
what they say would really come true.” 

“ But that ’s what you wish, is n’t it ? ” said 
John. 

“Hot if they should tell me anything bad,” 
said Madge, dubiously. 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 193 

“ Oh, but I do n’t believe they ’d do that,” said 
John. 

“ No, indeed,” said one of the sisters ; “ it is a 
beautiful fortune that I see in the lady’s face,” 
and she held out her hand to take Madge’s. 

“ Oh, wait a moment,” said Mr. Sinclair. “ I 
have another question or two to ask. What do 
you do here for food ? You say your tribe bring 
you things to eat sometimes. But that can’t last 
long. What do you do when that is gone ? ” 

“ Why, we ” The blue-eyed sister, who had 

begun to speak, hesitated a moment. 

“ Probably they catch fish and small game, and 
live on berries and wild fruits,” said John Dale, 
looking at the little sister rather fixedly. 

“Yes, we do,” she said. “We live on things 
we find up here, of course ; berries and nuts and 
— and ” 

“ And we catch fish, and shoot squirrels with 
sling-shots just as boys do,” put in the gray-eyed 
sister eagerly. 

Mr. Sinclair gave her a sharp glance, but made 
no comment on what she said. He went on 
with his questioning. 

“But what do you do for fires in winter? If 
you are cold here on such a day as this, how can 
you get along in winter ? ” 

“ Why — we — we — oh, well, we have other 
homes in the mountain besides this,” said the first 
sister, moving about and looking uncomfortable. 


194 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“Where are they? Can you build fires in 
them ? ” 

“Yes,” said the sister, evidently embarrassed. 
“We don’t like so many questions,” she said. 
“ It is about you that we wish to speak, not our- 
selves. So, pretty lady, now may I tell your for- 
tune ? ” 

She put out her hand again directly in the 
light of the candle. I saw Mr. Sinclair quickly 
bend over it a moment. Then he gave another 
sharp glance at the second little sister’s face, 
and suddenly burst into a hearty “ Ha ! ha ! 
ha!” 

“ Mrs. Todd,” he said, “ I wish you would ex- 
amine that little sister’s hair carefully, and see if 
there is n’t one lock there among all those gray 
ones that looks familiar to you. As for me, I 
know I ’ve seen the scar on this hand a hundred 
times before.” 

Here he drew the blue-eyed sister to him, 
while the other little old woman, looking com- 
pletely thunderstruck for the moment, suddenly 
put her hand to her head, and then, tearing off 
her wrappings and flinging an old gray wig on 
the floor, shouted : 

“ Oh, plague on my old red hair ! It ’s forever 
getting me into trouble ! ” 

And there stood Kalph revealed to our aston- 
ished gaze, while Philip, struggling in his 
father’s arms, scarcely knowing whether to laugh 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 195 

or to be indignant, was trying to keep his face 
concealed. 

But his father kept on laughing and tugging at 
the old clothes in which the boy was wrapped, 
and finally out of the crumpled mass stepped a 
very rueful and much tumbled Philip. 

As for Kalph, he had promptly shaken himself 
clear of his encumbrances, and now gave a merry 
shout as he said, “Well, it’s a burning shame we 
got found out, but I ’m glad to be out of these 
old carpet rags, anyhow.” 

As for me, I was as much astonished at the 
last two minutes’ part of the performance as at 
any previous portion of it, for though I had felt 
from the time when Mr. Sinclair had propounded 
his first questions regarding our party, that they 
were being answered by some one who must 
know something about us, I had never for a mo- 
ment suspected Philip and Kalph of being the 
perpetrators of the joke. I had thought of them 
as somewhere above us in the mountain. Cer- 
tainly John Dale had said so. But now that I 
came to think of it, he had only said what was 
true. They were up in the mountain, near at 
hand, and he had heard their voices when he and 
the girls had been in the cave. I remembered, 
too, how I had thought it almost seemed as if he 
were trying to prompt the Little Sisters in their 
answers. One other, at least, had noticed this 
also. 


196 A Misunderstood Hero 

“Of course I knew from the first that some 
one was trying to play pranks on us,” said Mr. 
Sinclair, “ but I own that I did not think of its 
being the boys till I heard you trying to help 
them make up their story.” 

“Well, it’s too bad,” said John, laughing. 
“We had meant to fool the girls completely, and 
the rest' of you, too. But neither the boys nor 
I expected to be cross-examined by a sharp law- 
yer, and we ’d quite overlooked such little details 
as eating and fires and so on.” 

“ After all, it was n’t that alone that told me,” 
said Mr. Sinclair. “ Just as Kalph spoke about 
shooting the squirrels, he put his hand suddenly 
to his head and disarranged that gray wig, and I 
immediately discovered the end of a lock whose 
hue I thought I recognized.” 

“ Plague on it,” said Kalph again, indignantly, 
“I wish I’d been born without a hair on my 
head ! ” 

“You did not have much, my dear, when you 
were born,” said his mother. 

“Then I wish I’d never had one since,” he 
said in such a disgusted tone that the walls of the 
cave quite resounded with our mirth. 

“But how did such a thing come into your 
heads, boys ? ” asked one of the girls. “ I ’m so 
glad we didn’t let you tell our fortunes. We’d 
never have heard the last of it. But how did you 
come to think of it ? ” 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 197 

“ Well, I suppose I am at the bottom of it,” 
said John Dale. “ I was up here this spring with 
some of the bark-men, and we came across this 
cave. It was evidently in use by somebody, for 
the table was in it just as you see it now. It 
occurred to me then that it would be a good joke 
to play on Gertrude and some cousins of ours, to 
pretend to find it some time when they should be 
with me. So I said nothing about it. When we 
decided yesterday to come up here I thought it 
would be a good time to have the joke come off. 
I told the boys about it and found they were 
ready for it.” 

“Keady for it!” exclaimed Philip. “We 
went into it hammer and tongs, you mean.” 

“We did n’t quite know how to dress the boys 
up,” said John. “We thought we’d have to 
make old women of them, because their voices 
wouldn’t be right for old men. So we took 
Aunt Mirny and Lorena into our confidence, and 
they produced the old rags. Aunt Mirny lent 
the knitting-work and the sewing. The old wig 
is one I have had for years.” 

“ I thought that old brass thimble on Philip’s 
thumb (a pretty place to wear it !) looked like the 
one Aunt Mirny ’s had ever since I can remember,” 
said Gertrude. 

“ And the candle, she lent us that,” said Philip. 
“We were in agony for fear it would burn out 
before we could get through with you, you were 


198 A Misunderstood Hero 

so long coming. Why didn’t you hurry?” he 
said to John, reproachfully. “We got ourselves 
all stained up with the walnut bark, and sat here 
bundled up in our old clothes for hours before 
you came.” 

“ Oh, not so long as that,” said John, laughing. 
“ Take off a few minutes. I did try to hurry 
them all I could, but I thought myself they ’d 
never start. And then they wanted me to stop 
and hunt you up.” 

“Well, well! ‘All’s well that ends well,’” 
said Mr. Sinclair. 

“ But it has n’t ended well,” said Philip, kick- 
ing the table leg. “ It ’s ended up all in a botch, 
and we meant to have such fun out of it.” 

“ And so you have ; it ’s been a splendid joke,” 
said Madge kindly. “ And if father had n’t asked 
so many questions we never would have known 
but that you really were the Little Sisters of the 
Mountain, for it was too dark to see you very well.” 

“ Yes, it was well conceived and carried out, 
and quite a pretty story, too,” said Mr. Sinclair, 
giving an affectionate pat to Philip’s shoulder. 

“Yes, wasn’t it?” said Ealph, eagerly. 
“ Frank made up our story for us.” 

“ Frank ! Frank who ? ” asked Mr. Sinclair, in 
surprise. 

“Why, Frank Sinclair, your son, of course. 
You know what splendid stories he makes up,” 
said Ealph. 


The Little Sisters of the Mountain 199 

“ Indeed ! ” said Mr. Sinclair, opening his eyes 
wide. “ No, I did not know it, certainly.” 

“That’s queer!” said Ealph, looking sur- 
prised in his turn. “ Well, he does, all the 
same, just the jolliest stories. And last night, 
instead of going to bed, all three of us got to- 
gether in Phil’s room, and Frank wrote it off as 
fast as he could. Then Philip went to work 
and learned it, but he got so sleepy he had to 
give it up before he had it perfect. But I think 
he did pretty well, considering,” said Ealph. 

“ So he did. He did it beautifully,” said Philip’s 
aunt, and so said we all. But I noticed that Mr. 
Sinclair’s face wore a puzzled expression. Was 
he trying to solve the problem of how the child 
whom he had been led to consider as stunted in 
mind no less than in body, was yet so far the 
superior of his mates that he was called upon not 
only to invent their little romances for them as 
occasion might arise, but had even attained the 
reputation among them of being the “ jolliest 
story-teller that ever was ” ? 

As he stood silent with the lines of perplexity 
on his forehead, while the others were chattering 
and laughing about him, I hoped it might prove 
a problem which he would work at long and 
seriously, and which he would never give up till 
the right answer had been found, till he should 
learn to know his son as he really was, and to 
make ready that place in his heart which the lov- 


200 


A Misunderstood Hero 


ing boy had so ardently longed and waited for 
through all his childhood. 

However, the time was not yet come. Some 
one arrested Mr. Sinclair’s attention, and the 
thought of Frank was cast aside. But I hoped 
it would return, and, somehow, in my heart there 
was a happier feeling about my little friend, the 
conviction being strong that the father’s heart 
would yet open wide to the lonely, motherless 
and almost friendless child. 

‘‘ Come, come ! ” said Mr. Sinclair breaking in 
upon these thoughts of mine. He looked at his 
watch in the dim light of the candle. “ Come, 
we must hurry. Here it is past two, and we are 
not yet at the top of our mountain.” 


CHAPTEE XI 


AN ADVENTUEE WITH A SNAKE 

Next morning when I awoke, my first thought 
was of Frank. His sad face as I had last seen 
it rose before me again, and I almost dreaded to 
meet him at the breakfast-table, for fear the 
sorrowful look might still be there, or even, per- 
haps, the old sullen frown which sometimes, 
though very rarely now, crept over his brow. 

But my fears were groundless. He met me 
with a cheery smile, and seemed more bright 
and happy than usual, as he and Ealph, sitting 
side by side, carried on a lively conversation 
quite by themselves. 

He had evidently made up his mind to “be 
good,” and take his old friend Agatha’s advice, 
— to make himself happy in trying to make others 
happy, — for he was eagerly saying something in 
a low tone to Ealph, at which Ealph laughed 
with the merriest enjoyment, though in a stifled 
sort of fashion, that he might not disturb the 
others. I did not know what it was, some little 
joke among themselves, of course, but it made 
me glad, for it showed how my dear little friend 
was trying to rise above the morbid, self- 
201 


202 


A Misunderstood Hero 


conscious, hateful state of feeling which had 
borne him down so long, and was actually plant- 
ing his feet with a firm hold upon the lower 
rounds of that ladder which was to lead him, I 
hoped, to a noble, helpful and loving youth and 
manhood. 

Two or three times in the course of the break- 
fast I saw his father gazing at him with a puzzled 
expression in his eyes. My heart gave a sudden, 
exultant leap as I perceived it. Had he begun 
at last to think of his son ? to study him ? to 
wonder what that bright, eager smile on the boy’s 
face could mean? to question whether he were 
really the heavy, slow-witted dullard he had al- 
ways believed ? As he sat with a keen, searching 
look in his eyes as they dwelt upon the boy, was 
he saying to himself, “ Is this Frank ? my son ! the 
one for whom I have always had to blush ! What 
does that bright look mean ? ” 

And then I fancied him going on with his 
questioning. “What did they mean yesterday 
by the boy’s making up stories ? ” Oh, it gave 
me a strange little thrill of triumph as I sat 
watching the grave man’s earnest eyes fixed full 
on Frank’s smiling face — all unconscious of the 
steady gaze upon it. At last, I thought, the 
clouds are breaking, and Frank will yet find his 
way to his father’s heart. 

That afternoon Frank and I departed from our 
usual custom of walking in the mountains, and 


An Adventure With a Snake 203 

betook ourselves instead to one end of the lawn, 
where a hammock and some rustic seats had been 
placed in a cool spot, a little way within the 
woods. Presently, as we sat talking together, 
along came Philip, Kalph and Henry, the waiter- 
boy, carrying Johnny in his arms. Henry began 
to practise those “spinning wheels” in which 
he was so proficient. He proceeded to instruct 
the two boys in all the mysteries of his art, 
and “buzzed” away so furiously that Johnny 
clapped his fat hands and fairly screamed with 
delight. 

After a little time Ealph saw his mother 
beckon to him from the house and ran off to see 
what she wanted, but the others stayed on, 
Philip and Henry still busily constructing their 
wheels, and Johnny looking on and applauding 
vigorously. 

At length the child grew tired of watching 
them and wandered a few steps within the wood, 
seating himself on the ground at a little distance 
from where the other boys were playing and 
also quite near to Frank and me, plainly in view 
of us all. Presently, as he sat there, he gave a 
piercing scream and then remained silent. Look- 
ing up, we saw his eyes fixed immovably on 
something directly in front of him. In that 
very second, as we gazed in startled amazement, 
we heard the ominous rattle of a snake, — who 
that has ever heard the sound can fail to recog- 


204 


A Misunderstood Hero 


nize it ? — and next we saw its head lifted, its cruel 
eyes fixed upon poor Johnny, as it suddenly 
coiled itself to spring at the child, paralyzed with 
fear. 

With a wild scream Philip and Henry flew 
from the spot, rushing with all their speed across 
the lawn. But in that same moment the boy at 
my side rose from his seat. He had with him a 
strong stick which he often used as a cane, and 
making two wild leaps to where Johnny sat, 
poised himself on his good foot, and brought the 
stick down — thank God ! — upon the snake’s head 
just at the right moment. How he ever flew 
over the ground in time I cannot tell, but he did, 
and by his presence of mind saved Johnny. 

Then he picked up the trembling child, and 
limping over to me, placed him in my lap. I 
kissed and comforted the baby as well as I 
could, thankful that no harm had come to the 
precious little life, thinking, too, all the time, 
what happiness would be mine when I should 
tell his fond mother how her son had been 
saved and by whom. Then I turned to my 
brave boy, Frank, and holding him close, told 
him something of what was in my heart for 
him because he had so nobly flown to Johnny’s 
rescue. 

For the child had been in the gravest danger. 
The snake was one of great size, as Frank found 
presently, when, like any eager boy, he went 


An Adventure With a Snake 205 

back to look at it, with Johnny, now quite re- 
covered from his fright, trotting behind him. 

“ It ’s a whopper. Miss Agatha,” he called back 
to me, “ with eight rattles and a button on it.” 

I learned afterward that it had been many 
yesirs since a rattlesnake had been found so near 
the house. A few were caught from time to time 
in the rocky parts of the mountains, but none had 
crept down so near the cultivated portion of the 
country, within the present owner’s remembrance. 

As Frank and Johnny stood looking at it, 
Philip and Henry, who had not gone more than 
half-way across the lawn before the whole adven- 
ture was over, now came running up to see it 
too. They also had quite overcome their fright 
by this time, and eagerly questioned Frank about 
the particulars of the slaying of the deadly 
reptile. 

Presently Philip produced a piece of string 
from his pocket, and tying it around the snake’s 
head, proceeded to drag the loathsome creature 
out of the woods, and on over the lawn toward 
the house. 

Henry and Johnny went with him, but Frank 
came back to me, where I still sat in the 
hammock, feeling weak and unnerved by 
the spectacle I had just witnessed. Here we 
lingered for a few minutes, till I felt able to re- 
turn to the house, and then we started across the 
lawn. 


2o6 


A Misunderstood Hero 


We could see all the family seated upon the 
porch, and I thought to myself how eagerly I 
would relate to their astonished ears my little 
story of Johnny’s danger and Frank’s brave 
rescue. 

In a moment, however, I saw that Philip, drag- 
ging the snake after him, was almost there, and 
knew that he would have the first chance to tell 
the good deed. 

But that made no difference. So long as Mrs. 
Todd and her sisters, and Frank’s father, and all, 
could know who had so nobly rushed forward to 
save little Johnny, I cared not who told the 
tale. 

We hurried on. As we quietly drew near we 
saw Philip standing alone at the foot of the steps, 
for Johnny had stopped at the swing, on the way 
up the lawn, and Henry was obediently swinging 
him there. 

Philip stood with his back somewhat toward 
us, but we could see his head held high, his curls 
thrust off his forehead, his cheeks flushed. His 
voice was ringing with triumph, as he faced them 
all and poured forth his eager, excited words. 
And this is what we heard him say : 

‘‘ And Johnny gave an awful scream, and then 
I saw the snake with its mouth open and its eyes 
glaring, and its tail rattling away. But just as 
it was ready to spring at Johnny, I saw a stick 
lying on the ground, and quick as lightning I 


An Adventure With a Snake 207 

picked it up and flew over the ground to that 
snake and whacked it on the head ” 

What ! Did we hear aright ? What was 
this that Philip was saying ? I stood spellbound 
for a moment, full of astonishment, of indignant 
amazement. Was it Philip standing there, his 
eyes shining, his eager young face flushed with 
excitement, as he glanced first at one and then at 
another of the listening circle of people about him, 
all hanging with breathless interest upon the words, 
the false, false words which fell from his lips ! 

“ Yes,” he said, “ I hit him a whack and killed 
him dead. I had to hit three times ” 

“ Philip ! ” I exclaimed. But for very amaze- 
ment my voice came faint and low, and no one 
heard it, or even seemed to see me where I stood 
with Frank a few feet away. They were all in- 
tent upon Philip’s story. 

“Philip,” said I, hastening forward, “how 
can you ” 

But here I felt a sudden grasp on my arm, 
and Frank’s voice with a sharp note of pain in 
it, sounded in my ear. 

“Don’t, Miss Agatha, don’t,” he begged. 
“Come with me, please, Miss Agatha. Don’t 
say anything. Come to the old stump with me.” 
And before I could say another word, or make 
my presence known in any way, Frank had 
turned me about, and was trying to draw me 
with him away from the others. 


2o8 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ O Miss Agatha,” he whispered, “ let me talk 
to you a little first. Do n’t say what you were 
going to. I must see you, first. Please, Miss 
Agatha.” 

The pleading look in the child’s eyes as he 
turned his face, all puckered with pain and anx- 
iety toward mine, drew me to follow him in spite 
of myself. 

“ What is it, Frank ? ” I said as we walked 
swiftly away. “ Why did you stop me ? What 
does Philip mean by that wicked lie ? ” 

“ Come to the stump with me. Miss Agatha. I 
want to say something,” said Frank, more quietly, 
now that he had me at a safe distance. “ What 
was it you meant to say to them. Miss Agatha ? ” 
he asked, when we had reached his favorite seat 
and I had sat down upon it. He stood before me 
with the same frightened, beseeching look in his 
eyes. “ Oh, were you going to tell them Philip 
lied?” 

“ Of course,” I said, still full of indignation at 
what I had heard. “ How could I do otherwise ? 
Did you hear him, Frank ? He was saying that 
he killed the snake.” 

“ Yes,” returned Frank, ‘‘ I know he was. But, 
please. Miss Agatha, let it go. I could n’t bear 
to have you say anything ” 

“ ‘ Let it go ! ’ When you killed it ? Why, 
what could Philip mean by standing there and 
telling such a lie ” 


An Adventure With a Snake 209 

“ Oh, I know it was a lie, and it is n’t the first 
time either,” said Frank, with his face full of dis- 
tress. “ Miss Agatha, I do n’t know that I ought 
to say anything about my own brother, but let 
me tell you something. Always, ever since I can 
remember, Philip has been like this. There is 
something queer about him. He will tell the 
most dreadful lies, and no one knows it but me. 
Sometimes I think he can’t help it, and then again 
I believe he could if he wanted to. But you see 
it is this way : — All his life Philip has been afraid 
of things, afraid of the dark, and of being hurt. 
When we were little fellows, if he had done any- 
thing wrong that he thought he might be pun- 
ished for, he ’d run and hide and tremble all over, 
and then he ’d come out and tell father and Aunt 
Margaret that he had n’t done it, and they ’d 
always believe him, and ’most always they’d 
punish me instead, because they ’d know one of 
us must have done it and Aunt Margaret never 
thought Philip could do wrong. And she ’d tell 
father, and then I ’d get whipped. But I could 
stand it better than Philip, for I did n’t mind the 
hurt so much as he would have done, and some- 
how, when I knew how it would make him feel, 
I could n’t bear to have him frightened so. They 
never believed me, anyhow, when I did say any- 
thing. 

“ So that ’s the way we ’ve gone on. As we ’ve 
grown older, Philip has n’t got over it, but to this 


210 


A Misunderstood Hero 


day, when he ’s done anything wrong he gets out 
of it in one way or another, and though it makes 
me almost despise him sometimes when I hear 
him, I can’t bear to tell of him, even if I thought 
they ’d listen to me, for I know how frightened 
he gets at the thought of being whipped, and I 
think so much of him that I can’t bear to make 
him feel so bad. 

“There’s something queer about my feeling 
for Philip,” Frank went on ; “I ’d rather be hurt 
myself any day than see him hurt, or even have 
him shamed or mortified. I know I can bear it 
better. And somehow, though I think he is often 
cruel to me,” said Frank, with a quiver about his 
lip, “ I do love him, and I ’ve always thought I ’d 
be good to him that way, anyhow. I ’d bear his 
blows for him, if there was nothing else I could do. 

“ And I suppose,” he hastened on, “ it ’s because 
he learned to lie this way when he was little, to 
save himself from being punished, that now he 
has grown into the way of lying about other 
things. All his life he has liked to hear of brave 
people and what they have done. He ’s always 
making me tell him stories about people saving 
other people’s lives and doing noble acts. He 
seems to have the greatest love for such things, 
and I suppose it must be because he knows he 
isn’t brave himself, but wishes he was. And 
he’s so proud he can’t bear to have anybody 
know he ’$ afraid of anything. He wants ’em to 


An Adventure With a Snake 211 

think he ’s as brave as a lion. So they do. For 
whenever he gets a chance like this to-day, he ’ll 
stand up in front of them all, and tell it off beau- 
tifully, only he always fixes it so that he ’s the 
hero of the story. Oh, I know Philip,” said 
Frank, with a little bitterness ; “ he always looks 
out for that. 

“ So now, do n’t you see. Miss Agatha,” he said, 
looking into my face imploringly, “ why it is that 
I did n’t want you to say anything just now ? I 
could n’t bear to have Philip so shamed before 
father and every one. Just think how he would 
have felt if you had told them that he did n’t kill 
the snake ! And I know I ’d have felt worse yet. 
Oh, I do hope you won’t say a word about it. 
Miss Agatha. Promise that you won’t.” 

Hitherto I had had no opportunity to speak, so 
rapidly had his eager words rushed forth. Even 
now, when he had paused for some comforting as- 
surance on my part that I would not betray his 
dearly loved brother, I found my tongue slow to 
do its duty. I was so astonished, so perplexed, at 
this sudden revealing of the unfortunate, the 
altogether wrong relations between the two 
brothers, and so pained and disturbed with this 
new glimpse at Philip’s character, that I felt 
unable at the moment to say anything. 

“Dear Miss Agatha,” implored Frank, putting 
his hand into mine, “ it does n’t seem much to ask, 
does it ? that you will just keep still ? ” 


212 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ O Frank,” I cried, “ it is this much to ask, 
that it is wrong, wrong ! How can I keep still 
and consent that this wickedness should go on ? 
For wickedness it is, my boy. Do you not see it 
so, too ? Do you not know that the brother you 
love so well will be utterly ruined by this terrible 
habit of falsehood which has fastened itself upon 
him, which has grown with his growth, until, 
even at his early age, it may be too late for him 
to shake it off ? O my child, do you not see that 
in fostering his falseness you, too, have been 
false ? You say you love Philip too well to 
shame him, but in shielding this sin of his you 
may have helped to do what will hurt him far 
more hereafter than any shame he could bear 
now, no matter how painful it might be. Just 
think ! as he is now, so he may grow up, a false, 
wicked man — a liar ! My dear, you have not 
looked at it in that light.” 

“But I have talked to him,” said Frank, ear- 
nestly. “ I could not have told the others about 
it, but to Philip I Ve talked, oh, so many times ! 
I ’ve begged him not to do it. I ’ve told him,” 
said Frank, softening his voice, “ how I thought 
our mother would feel about it. For ever since 
I Ve had her letter, I Ve known she ’d want us to 
be good.” 

“ What did Philip say ? ” 

“ He always says he means to be good ; but 
when the times comes he forgets. I do n’t think 


An Adventure With a Snake 213 

Philip minds so very much about telling fibs, 
Miss Agatha. You know a good many boys 
do n’t.” 

“ That is only too true,” I answered, sorrow- 
fully. “ But to think of my bright little friend 
Philip as one of them I That is bad. And to see 
him stand there before them all and lie so happily^ 
as if he really enjoyed it ! I cannot understand 
him.” 

“ It was because he loves to have them praise 
him,” said Frank. 

“ How does he dare to do it ? ” said I. “ Did 
he not know that I would be sure to hear of it 
and expose him ? ” 

“ I do n’t think he knew you were in the ham- 
mock and saw it at all. Miss Agatha, you were so 
far back among the trees.” 

“ But he knew you were there.” 

“ Yes, but he knew I would n’t say a word. 
He ’d know I could n’t be so mean. But I ’ll talk 
to him, Miss Agatha; I truly will,” he said, as I 
tried to rise once more, “ if only you won’t tell 
them anything about it.” 

I was silent. I could not promise Frank what 
he wished, for I felt that something must be 
done by somebody to right this wrong, but I was 
anxious to do the wisest thing. Perhaps it might 
be well to let Frank speak to his brother once 
more, and I resolved that I also would first talk to 
Philip before taking any further steps in the matter. 


214 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“I cannot promise you, dear Frank,” I said, 
“that I will not speak of this to your father at 
some future time, but for the present I will say 
nothing.” 

“ Oh, thank you. Miss Agatha ! ” exclaimed Frank, 
as if I had done him the greatest favor. Then 
he added in a moment, smiling happily, “Just 
think. Miss Agatha, to-morrow is your birthday, 
you know, and they are all planning to have such 
a good time ! Would nT it have been too bad to 
go and upset everybody by telling about Philip ? 
You forgot that, didn’t you. Miss Agatha ?” 

It was true that my birthday would be on the 
morrow, and I knew the young people were 
busily engaged in devising ways and means of 
celebrating it. I was supposed to know nothing 
about the preparations, of course, beyond the fact 
that the day was to be observed in some special 
manner, but I had been aware for some time of 
hasty assemblings, busy whisperings and much 
suppressed giggling among the young folks. 

All this meant, I supposed, that some merry- 
making was in prospect, ostensibly in my honor, 
of course, but chiefly, I suspected, for the gratifi- 
cation of my young friends themselves. It would 
have been, as Frank said, a pity to let anything 
mar the pleasure and harmony of this occasion, 
and I decided that I must do nothing which 
would hinder the enjoyment of my natal day. 

“ You are right, my dear,” I said. “ I would 


An Adventure With a Snake 2 15 

not do anything to spoil our pleasure to-morrow, 
so we will try to forget this trouble about 
Philip for the present.” 

Still I could not dismiss it from my mind. As 
I saw Frank stoop to pat his dog, a sudden 
thought came to me. “ Frank,” I said, “ was it 
true that Laddie went out on the log that day, 
as Philip said, or was that a made-up story 
too?” 

“ Oh, yes, it was true that Laddie went out on 
the log.” 

“ And Philip went out to save him ? ” 

Frank was silent. 

“ It was not Philip, then ? ” 

“ No, Miss Agatha,” he said, with a flush. 

“ Who was it, Frank ? ” 

The boy hesitated a moment. Then he picked 
up the little dog and pressed him closely in his 
arms. 

“ Laddie knows,” he said. 


CHAPTER XII 

MISS AGATHA’S BIRTHDAY 

The first sunbeams darting through my opened 
blind wakened me next morning. It was too 
early to rise as yet, but I would not close my 
eyes for another nap. My thoughts turned to 
the new friends about me. Even now, for aught 
I knew, a dozen busy hands and feet might be 
hurrying about in my service. All these young 
people round me were no doubt awake, their 
eager minds intent upon those mysteries I could 
not help suspecting were afoot. And it was all 
to give pleasure to a plain old woman whom the 
most of them had never seen or even heard of a 
few short weeks before. A careless mention of 
the day on my part, had been enough to start 
these merry young things off, and now I felt 
assured they were all busy “ plotting and plan- 
ning together to take me by surprise,” while, for 
anything I could tell, the whole household might 
be enlisted in the cause. 

As I lay there thinking gratefully of these 
new-made friends, and wondering a little what 
special form their “ surprise ” would take, I heard 
a faint tap, tap along the hall floor. I knew the 
216 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 217 

sound well; it came from Frank’s halting foot- 
steps, carefully subdued, that nobody might be 
disturbed. They came nearer and nearer until 
they paused a moment at my door. 

“ Dear little Frank, God bless him ! ” I said to 
myself. “ He is bringing his old friend a birth- 
day gift in his own shy, delicate way.” I made 
no sound, and the steps moved off, presently 
dying away down the hall. 

Then I rose and peeped outside my door. 
There lay a bunch of pretty woodland leaves, 
with here and there a flower between them, 
though there were few flowers to be had at that 
season, all daintily arranged and with the shin- 
ing drops of dew still on them. The child must 
have risen at break of day and wandered far to 
find them, and now had come in his unassuming, 
silent way to offer them to his friend and thus 
assure her of his love. Dear, thoughtful lad ! 
Again I said, “ God bless him ! ” and dressed as 
quickly as I could, that I might seek and thank 
him for his pretty gift. Ho matter what the 
others might do, no one could bring such a thrill 
of pleasure to my heart as Frank had done by 
this simple, loving act. | 

It was not so difficult to find Frank now as it | 
had been in the early days of our acquaintance. I 
I had only to go to the old stump with its broad- 
spreading top, out under the trees at the side of 
the house. There, after I had thanked him in 


2i8 


A Misunderstood Hero 


my quiet fashion for his gift, we sat down and 
chatted happily together. Laddie was instructed 
to offer a paw of congratulation, in honor of the 
day, and was also persuaded to perform one or 
two new tricks, learned especially for the oc- 
casion. 

Before that was well over, Philip and Kalph 
had rushed upon us with their merry greetings, 
then the girls came, and next Mrs. Todd, Johnny 
and the aunties. And when the breakfast-bell 
rang and we all went in together, there were 
more hearty greetings to go through with, from 
Mr. Sinclair’s cordial clasp of the hand and 
“ Many happy returns of the day. Miss Poppel- 
heimer,” and his sister’s more formal word of 
congratulation, down to the beaming smiles of 
our waiter- boy and the broad grin on Aunt 
Mirny’s face as she stood in the doorway leading 
to her own regions, with little Saint and Sinner 
peeping round her skirts. 

Who could help feeling touched by so much 
kindness ? I was obliged to put up a hasty hand 
and brush something from my eyes before I could 
see my plate quite plainly. And there, when I 
did recover my sight, lay two little keepsakes, 
one from each of the girls, pretty gifts made by 
their own hands, which I shall treasure all my 
life for the givers’ sakes. 

When we began to eat, I remember we had 
eggs, and mine, placed in the little glass by my 


219 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 

plate, was specially decorated with a tiny blue 
ribbon neatly tied about its center. When I 
stood it up in its glass and chipped the end of 
the shell, which is my way of eating an egg, I 
discovered that it must have been laid by an en- 
tirely new-fashioned kind of a hen, for its con- 
tents consisted wholly of fine white sugar. 

This, of course, was a matter of some surprise 
to me, and I gave a puzzled glance around the 
table. Every one else seemed, apparently, as 
surprised as I, with the exception of two bright- 
eyed boys, who tried to look unconscious, but 
failing in this attempt, set up a hearty laugh in- 
stead, through which I could hear Sinner’s shrill, 
high treble and Aunt Mirny’s gruffer tones join- 
ing in from the kitchen. 

“Now where could this have come from ? ” 
cried I, holding up my egg for all to see. “ I 
have heard of the goose that laid golden eggs, 
but never of a hen that laid eggs of sugar. Mrs. 
Dale, I thought I had seen all of your hens, but 
you never showed me this kind.” 

“ Indeed, I did n’t know I had it,” said Mrs. 
Dale. “Somebody must have found a nest of 
eggs about which I knew nothing at all.” 

“ I suspect that I know the very two boys who 
found this wonderful nest,” said I, shaking my 
finger at Philip and Kalph. Then they laughed 
again, and another triumphant squeal came from 
Sinner in the kitchen. 


220 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ But, seriously, liovv did the sugar get there ? ” 
I asked, turning the egg about, perplexed for the 
moment. 

“ Untie it. That will solve the mystery, I 
suspect,” said Mr. Sinclair. 

So I untied the blue ribbon, and now it was 
easy to see how it had been made to serve not 
only an ornamental but a useful purpose as well, 
for by its means a small chipping in the egg-shell, 
through which the original contents had been 
drawn and the sugar inserted instead, had been 
effectually concealed. 

After we had had a few more merry words 
about the wonderful sugar egg, and Philip had 
confessed that it was his present to Miss Agatha, 
we began breakfast again in earnest, and I picked 
up the muffin which lay in a little dish at the side 
of my plate. Here was a fresh surprise, for it 
suddenly fell open and out dropped a mouse, evi- 
dently placed there with a view to filling me 
with fright and dire dismay. It might have ful- 
filled its mission better if I had not at once rec- 
ognized it as being the same brown chocolate 
creature which I had myself given to Johnny as 
my share of the general contribution to that 
young gentleman’s treasures upon our return 
from Mount Lorrington, an evening or two be- 
fore. It caused another laugh, of course, and I 
shook my finger at Kalph again, for that it was 
his gift was plainly to be seen in spite of his ap- 


221 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 

parent unconsciousness of all that was going on 
about him, and his abstracted gaze out of the 
window at something in the extreme distance. 
Thus the morning of my birthday may be said 
to have begun most auspiciously. 

ITothing more of special interest transpired, 
and I began to think that after all I must 
have been mistaken about the mysterious whis- 
perings and conversations I had observed. Prob- 
ably, I thought, they all referred to the gifts 
which had already been bestowed upon me. Still, 
it was a little strange, when Frank and I re- 
turned from our afternoon walk about five 
o’clock, to find the house so quiet and the grounds 
quite deserted. Out in the orchard we could see 
John Dale directing his men, and Mr. Sinclair 
was with him, but not one of the young people 
was visible. Once or twice I thought I heard 
the sound of laughter from some upper room at 
the back of the house, but not a glimpse could 
we catch of anybody. 

It was strange, too, to find that the parlor door 
was locked when we tried to open it. I fancied 
that Frank looked wise when I expressed my sur- 
prise at this singular occurrence, but as he said 
nothing, I likewise refrained from further re- 
marks, and together we went out to the hammock 
at the side of the house, to await supper. 

On this day, I can scarcely tell how, our talk 
fell more than it had ever done upon myself, and 


222 


A Misunderstood Hero 


I told Frank many things about my life in my 
own home. I described the pretty country all 
about it and the home itself, with the warm, true 
friends I had around me there. The boy was 
greatly pleased, as I could see from his intent, 
eager eyes. He was especially interested in one 
friend of my girlhood’s days, an elderly maiden 
woman like myself, who loved animals as well as 
even he could. I told him of her houseful of 
dogs and cats, monkeys, parrots, birds of differ- 
ent kinds, of her white mice, her rabbits and 
guinea-pigs, her tame squirrels, and even a Texas 
toad and wicked-looking little green lizard which 
formed part of the collection. 

“ Do n’t I wish I could see ’em. Miss Agatha ! ” 
said Frank, with his brightest smile. 

“ So you shall, my dear,” 1 answered. “ I hope 
you will see them many times.” 

I said no more at the moment. I had long 
been thinking that when the time should come 
for us to part, I would ask Mr. Sinclair to let me 
take Frank to my own home and keep him with 
me for a year or two. It seemed to me that if 
he could for a time be entirely removed from his 
own people, his better nature might have more 
freedom to develop itself than was possible, 
under the peculiar circumstances, in his home. 
On many accounts it might be better also that 
the brothers should be separated at this period of 
their lives. I could not but feel that each was 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 223 

hurting the other. Certainly their daily life to- 
gether, in which Philip not only claimed the lion’s 
share in every good thing and selfishly engrossed 
the love and admiration of all their friends, but 
even carelessly, nay, heartlessly, permitted his 
brother to bear those reproofs and punishments 
which should by right have fallen on himself, had 
already wrought great evil to Frank, while the 
hiding and shielding, on Frank’s part, of his 
brother’s faults, the giving way to his selfish 
habits, the mistaken notion that he himself must 
“ bear his blows for him,” could not but in the 
end work Philip’s ruin. 

I sat silent a moment thinking of this, but feel- 
ing that it would be best to say nothing of my 
plans for the future to Frank, when he suddenly 
gave a start and sprang up from my side. 

“ Good-bye, Miss Agatha,” he said hastily. “ I 
have to go now.” 

Why, what ’s the matter, Frank ? ” I asked, 
in surprise, as I saw a look of annoyance on his 
face. I turned my head, and there, strolling to- 
ward us across the grass, was Mrs. Archer. She 
was all alone, with a book in her hand. She 
had come out, tempted by the beauty of the 
afternoon, no doubt, to read on the lawn and, 
seeing no one else at hand, was evidently about 
to bestow her society upon us. 

“ Do n’t go, Frank,” I said. “ Stay with us, 
and be nice to your Aunt Margaret.” 


224 


A Misunderstood Hero 


But he was already limping off, with the old 
frown on his face. In spite of all my teachings a 
glimpse of his Aunt Margaret still brought it there. 

“ Be a good boy, Frank, and stay,” I called to 
him. 

“ Oh, please, no, Miss Agatha,” he answered, 
looking back. “I can’t stay now. Truly, I 
have to go.” 

“ Foolish boy ! ” I exclaimed. But he was 
already too far away to hear me. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Archer approached the ham- 
mock and seated herself in a rustic chair at my 
side. After a commonplace remark or two, she 
said : “ I see I have driven your shadow away, 
as usual.” 

‘‘ My shadow ? ” I repeated. “ Oh, you mean 
Frank.” 

“ Yes,” she said, and before I could make any 
answer she spoke again. “ It is the strangest 
thing to me, Miss Poppelheimer, how you can see 
anything to like in that boy. Of course you 
cannot wonder that we should all observe your 
unusual interest in him. If it had been Philip, 
indeed, — but Frank ! That he, of all children, 
with his dull, hateful ways, should have attracted 
your regard to such a remarkable degree, I 
confess I cannot understand. Certainly,” she 
went on with a bitter smile, “ we should congrat- 
ulate ourselves upon his making such a friend, 
the first one, I think, that he has ever found.” 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 225 

‘‘That is just it,” I said quickly. “ It was be- 
cause I saw him lonely, sad, and living apart 
from everybody, that I felt drawn toward him, 
and when I had broken through the outer crust 
of reserve and had learned to know him, I 
found what a warm, loving nature the child has, 
and ” 

But she would not permit me to proceed 
further. 

“ Warm, loving nature, indeed ! ” she repeated 
scornfully. “ You are truly the only person who 
has ever discovered it. To us who have known 
him far longer than you, he has always been the 
same gloomy, repulsive boy that in every one’s 
eyes but yours he is to-day. And instead of the 
loving nature you speak of, we who have seen 
him grow up from babyhood, have found him to 
be simply a sullen, morose, stupid child, shun- 
ning and apparently hating even his own people ; 
while Philip, on the other hand, has been ever 
the joy of the whole household ; bright, winning, 
beautiful, with the sweetest nature. But you 
have never seemed to care for Philip, which is so 
strange ” 

“ Philip has so many friends,” I said gently ; 
“but Frank seems to have only me. That, of 
itself, was enough to make me wish to be his 
friend. When I saw that even his own people, 
if you will pardon me for saying it, apparently 
cared nothing for him ” 


226 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ But whose fault is it if we do not care for 
him ? ” she interrupted. “ You see what he is — 
or, rather, you do not see,” she went on indig- 
nantly. “ You seem to view him through some 
veil which your imagination has created, and it 
has lent an entirely different aspect to his looks 
and behavior and his whole character from the 
true one. No, you do not understand him. Miss 
Foppelheimer. You fancy him a down-trodden, 
abused child, whom his people have wilfully neg- 
lected all his life, whereas the facts are that 
their father has scrupulously insisted from the 
very first that the two brothers should be treated 
alike, and share alike in everything. And I have 
been careful to respect his wishes by giving them 
the same care, the same nursing, the same cloth- 
ing, the same food, the same ” 

‘‘ But not the same love,” I put in softly. 

“No,” said Mrs. Archer, after a momentary 
pause. “ No, I grant,” she said, drawing herself 
up haughtily, “ that there has not been the same 
love. There could not be that. When I think 
of my beautiful Philip, with his frank, noble 
nature, and compare him with that gloomy, 
shuffling, loutish boy, I feel that the two can 
never occupy a place in my affections together. 
And so it is with his father. But we are kind, as 
kind as he will permit us to be. We have never 
neglected him and never will. Everything which 
can be done for his success in life, if there can be 


227 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 

success for such as he, his father will do to the 
utmost of his means, which are not at all large.” 

If it could have fallen out that I was holding 
this conversation with Mr. Sinclair instead of 
his sister, as I would have liked, I should now 
have felt that I could open my whole mind to 
him in regard to his son Frank. I could have 
told him how sure I was that they had all formed 
a mistaken estimate of the child’s character, 
and could have delicately pointed out the many 
grave errors of which I thought his sister had 
been guilty in her manner of bringing up the boy 
so early left to her care. But I did not wish to 
say these things to Mrs. Archer. In the first 
place, there was a hauteur about her which al- 
ways held me at arm’s length, and made me 
unwilling to venture upon any clashing of 
opinion, if it could be avoided. It is not pleas- 
ant to have the spirit utterly crushed within one, 
and this had invariably been the result of Mrs. 
Archer’s manner on the few occasions when I 
had openly differed from any of her views. 
There are people in the world who can, by the 
mere turning of the head, the lifting of an eye- 
brow, make you feel yourself a guilty wretch, 
even when you know your motives to be as in- 
nocent as those of a baby. Mrs. Archer had al- 
ways had this effect upon me, whenever, as I say, 
I had dared to disagree with her. 

For this reason I did not wish to enter upon a 


228 


A Misunderstood Hero 


discussion of Frank’s character with his aunt, 
especially as I believed it would be of no help to 
the child himself. 

But there was also another and better reason. 
I felt that in such a matter the father was the 
right one to appeal to. It was to him I must go 
and plead his boy’s cause, to him I must try to 
speak such earnest words as should open his eyes 
and make him see the harm which had already 
been wrought and must continue to be in the 
future, if his son could not be, in some way, pro- 
tected from the blight of this mistaken woman’s 
influence. 

As I sat apparently listening to what Mrs. 
Archer was saying, I resolved that I would no 
longer delay, that I would throw all foolish 
timidity to the winds and seek an early oppor- 
tunity to tell my side of the story to Frank’s 
father. 

In the meantime I tried to lead my companion 
somewhat away from the main subject of our 
conversation by mentioning my wish to take 
Frank home with me in the fall. “You will 
none of you feel it a hardship, surely, to part 
with him,” I said, with perhaps a grain of malice, 
“ and to me it would be a pleasure to have the 
boy with me. Of course,” I added, “ I have said 
nothing to Frank as yet, but do you not think 
his father will consent to give him to me for a 
time ? ” 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 229 

“ What ! ” she said in great surprise. “ What ! 
to take him to your own home? Frank, you 
mean, and not Philip ? ” 

“ I should like to take Frank,” I said gravely. 

“ The children have never been separated,” she 
remarked coldly, after a moment’s pause. “ I 
doubt the wisdom of making any change now. 
There is also Frank’s school to be thought of,” 
she added, with the air of one trying to raise 
objections. 

“ Oh, I will see to all that,” I said quickly. “ I 
will have him carefully taught by the best 
masters. That is a part of my little scheme. 
He shall have every advantage which I can give 
him.” 

“ Why, how long, pray, do you wish to keep 
him ? ” asked Mrs. Archer, still apparently greatly 
astonished. 

“ Oh,” I said eagerly, “ we need set no time, 
surely. Let him come for an indefinite stay. 
You know I am much alone, with few young 
people at present about me. Frank suits me, and 
I will take good care of him. I do not believe 
his father will ever regret it if he gives his 
consent.” 

“Well, really,” exclaimed Mrs. Archer, “this 
is the last thing which we could have expected, 
that that boy should at last have made a friend 
for himself, and such a friend, too ! ” 

There was a little flush on her face, and I 


A Misunderstood Hero 


230 

fancied that it arose from annoyance. “ How- 
ever,” she added coldly, “as I just said, I think 
it very doubtful if his father will consent to have 
his children separated, especially for any length 
of time. But see,” she said, looking at her 
watch, “ it is almost time for supper. Suppose 
we go in.” 

I saw she was anxious to drop the subject, and 
so said no more. I resolved, however, that I 
would soon lay the matter before Frank’s father, 
for since the talk which had just taken place 
between his aunt and myself, I was more than 
ever anxious to have Frank removed from her 
charge. 

Just as we were rising from our seats to go into 
the house, we saw the young people, accompanied 
by Mrs. Todd and Johnny, strolling toward us. 
They were talking merrily together as they passed 
on over the lawn. 

“ I wonder what they are all coming out for 
just before supper,” I observed. 

“ Let us sit down and wait,” said Mrs. Archer. 

Presently they arrived and seated themselves 
near us, Philip and Kalph throwing themselves 
on the grass as usual and the girls sitting together, 
of course, on a convenient log. They all assumed 
a blank expression of having nothing in particular 
to think about, which informed me at once that 
some mystery was at hand. Still, no word was 
said beyond the usual little nothings of the hour. 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 23 1 

Yery soon, however, the mystery was explained. 
Across the lawn came a little figure in a ragged 
red shirt and a pair of short brown trousers much 
the worse for wear. Above these garments ap- 
peared the shining black countenance of Aunt 
Mirny’s grandson, known among us all as Saint. 
Borne aloft in his hands with the greatest care, 
was something which at that distance I could 
only see was large and round and white. Sinner 
danced along at his side. As they drew nearer 
we could hear him admonishing her not to touch 
him. 

“ Dar yuh go ! ” he said. “ Gran ’ll spank us 
bof inter de middle ob nex’ week ’f yo’ hit dis 
yer. Go ’way dar, yo’ nig ! ” Then he came on, 
picking his way through the people grouped 
about, till he stepped up in front of me where I 
still sat in the hammock. 

“ Gran’s comblemunts,” he said, an uneasy 
grin on his round black face, as he held out his 
precious burden, which I now saw was an im- 
mense cake, all covered with beautiful icing, 
which peeped out from beneath a napkin. 

“ Gran’s comblemunts — no, I forgot.” Here 
he stopped short, and made me a low bow, still 
holding his cake with the greatest care. “ Gran’s 
comblemunts,” he began again, “ to Missie Pop- 

pel — Popper — Pop Golly ! I done forgot 

it so quick ! ” 

Saint suddenly stopped short again, looking 


A Misunderstood Hero 


232 

the picture of misery, while we could imagiiLe the 
red creeping all over his face, though we could 
not see it. 

“Gran’s comblemunts,” he said, standing on 
one foot and fixing his eyes sternly on a certain 
stone for help. “ Gran’s comblemunts to Missie 
Pop — Pop — Pop ” 

“goes the weasel,” burst in Ealph, with a 

loud shout. “ That ’s what it is.” 

“ No, ’t ain’t dat ar needer,” said poor Saint, 
wriggling about uneasily, but with a grin on his 
face, too. “ Gol ! I done knowed I could n’t fix 
dat name nohow,” said the poor little fellow, 
holding the cake out to me beseechingly. “ To 
Missie Popple — Pop ” 

“ Pop it into her lap,” shouted Ealph again, 
while I reached out my hands and took the 
beautiful cake from the little messenger, telling 
him not to mind, that he was a good little boy 
and had done his errand very well and that it 
made no difference about the hard name any- 
way. 

Sinner, who had stood by her brother all this 
time, now put in her word in the most disgusted 
tone. 

“ Lor’ ! dat ain’t not’in’, dat ain’t. 1 knowed it 
all de time. Dat fool nig doan’ know not’in’. I 
got on ter dat name fus’ ting. But gran, she 
doan’ nebba tink I know tings. It’s Missie 
Pop-in-time. Dat’s what it is, Missie Pop-in- 


Gran’s comblemunts,” he said 











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Miss Agatha’s Birthday 233 

time.” And Sinner suddenly spread out her 
scanty blue and yellow skirts, and standing on 
one foot, proceeded to whirl round like a magni- 
fied, gaily-decked spinning top. 

Of course we all laughed. No one could help 
laughing at such comical little people. Then we 
began to examine Aunt Mirny’s beautiful birth- 
day cake. 

“ She was so stingy of it,” said Philip, “ that 
she would n’t let Kalph and me have even one 
little peek at it till you ’d seen it. Miss Agatha. 
So we told the girls about it and came out to see 
how surprised you ’d be. Does n’t it smell good ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” I answered, “ and looks good, 
too. I declare it is so pretty with all those curly 
little ornaments on the top of it, it seems a pity 
to cut it up.” 

“ Oh, I do n’t know that,” said Philip, rather 
anxiously. “ Of course Aunt Mirny meant to have 
it eaten.” 

‘‘ Of course ! ” said Kalph, energetically. “ You 
would n’t think of keeping it just to look at. Miss 
Agatha ? ” 

“Well, perhaps not,” I answered, “especially 
with two such hungry looking boys about — with 
four such hungry little folks about,” I added, 
correcting myself, for Saint and Sinner were still 
lingering near, gazing with big eyes at the beau- 
tiful cake, and I knew they were thinking how 
good it would taste, too. 


234 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ Ki-i ! ” squealed Sinner at this point. She 
was a sharp little thing, and knew that I meant 
that she and her brother were to have their share 
of “ gran’s ” toothsome dainty. 

“ Ki-i ! ” she screamed triumphantly, and seiz- 
ing her brother by the arm, cried, “ Come on, 
dar’s de suppa-bell. Le’s go an’ peek tru de 
winda, an’ see dey-all when dey cuts dat cake. 
Dey ’ll sabe some for us. Missie Pop, she jes’ as 
good as said so.” 

And off they started at a full run across the 
lawn, followed more leisurely by the rest of us ; 
for Henry, the waiter-boy, stood in the kitchen- 
door ringing the great bell for supper. Behind 
him I caught a glimpse of Aunt Mirny, anxiously 
peeping out at Philip and Ralph, who had 
kindly volunteered to relieve me of all charge 
of the precious cake on its journey back to the 
house. 

I waved my hand and nodded vigorously to 
her until I should be able to thank her more 
fittingly for her tempting gift, and then we all 
passed into the dining-room through the outside 
door, the two boys bearing the cake aloft in great 
triumph. 

I cannot remember that anything worthy of 
note occurred at the table that evening. But an 
hour later, when some of us older people were 
sitting under the trees, Henry suddenly appeared 
before me with a large, square envelope on a silver 


Miss Agatha's Birthday 235 

card receiver, which he presented with a courtly 
bow and his usual benevolent smile, and which I 
discovered to be an elaborately worded invitation 
to be present at a grand entertainment to be given 
in the parlor by the young people and various 
other members of the household to “ Miss Agatha 
Poppelheimer, as a slight token of their regard, 
and in honor of her birthday.” So this was what 
all the secrecy and the busy whispering for so 
many days had been about. 

The hour appointed for the entertainment was 
eight, and as if to warn us of that fact, somebody 
at that moment rang the great dinner-bell on the 
porch. Gertrude came and led me into the parlor 
to what seemed to be the throne of honor, a very 
easy, low chair in the center of the front row of 
seats which were grouped together at the upper 
end of the long room. 

Several of these seats were already occupied by 
some of the hotel guests, who had evidently been 
invited to witness the performance. Yery soon 
various members of our own party came in and 
seated themselves till nearly all the chairs were 
filled. Glancing over to the four windows at the 
side of the room I beheld the jolly, good-natured 
faces, old and young, of the different servants 
about the house and farm, standing outside, 
ready to enter into the pleasures of the evening 
as eagerly as anybody. Even old Uncle Jone 
stood at one of the windows, holding his little 


A Misunderstood Hero 


236 

grandchild high in his arms, that she might see 
as well as the others. 

Shortly after we had all settled ourselves 
quietly in our seats, I perceived Frank in the 
hall near the door, looking as though he scarcely 
knew whether to venture in or not. I caught his 
eye and beckoned to him to come and sit by me. 
He came in timidly, yet bravely, too, and as he 
drew near, looked into my face with his own shy 
smile. But after all some one had taken the 
chair near me. I looked about somewhat un- 
certainly for another, when to my great surprise 
I heard Mr. Sinclair behind me say : 

“ Here, Frank, come here. Here is your place 
by me, my son.” 

Turning around, I saw him reach out and draw 
the child to him. The boy gave one swift glance 
at his father, and then edging his way among the 
chairs, sat down softly by his side. There came 
a slow blush over all his face, and even his ears 
and neck, as he rested there, sheltered for the 
moment by his father’s arm. He sat motionless, 
as if he dared not stir, lest he might wake and 
find it all a dream that at last, even to him who 
was only Frank, had come the tender word, the 
pleased smile, for which his heart had pined so 
long. As for myself, I could not at once with- 
draw my gaze from either of them. I, too, felt 
in a dream. What did it mean ? Was Frank’s 
father at last beginning to see the boy as he 


Miss Agatha’s Birthday 237 

really was ? Would all be right between them 
now ? 

If anything was needed to add to my enjoy- 
ment of the entertainment which these kind- 
hearted young people — blessings on them ! — had 
spent long hours planning and preparing, it was 
just this. Now and then through all the panto- 
mime and singing and dancing, — in the latter 
of which Saint and Sinner took a joyous and most 
appreciated part, — which illustrated “ The Yarn 
of the Nancy Bell,” I could not help glancing 
around to see how Frank was enjoying it, and was 
struck with the same rapt expression which he 
had had earlier in the evening. His father’s arm 
was no longer about his shoulders, but still the 
boy felt himself near him, safe and sheltered at 
his father’s side. He saw me as I turned to look 
at him, but responded only with a faint smile and 
a lifting of the eyelids. It was as if he scarcely 
dared to stir lest the charm should be broken. 

When it was all over, and I found him in the 
hall with his cheeks still flushed and his eyes 
shining with joy, I said : — 

“ Have you had a pleasant time, Frank ? ” 

“Yes, Miss Agatha,” he answered, with a 
little break in his voice. “Oh, I didn’t know 
that any one could be so happy as I am to- 
night ! ” 

I went to my own room glad in Frank’s joy. 
Again and again as I lay in my bed I heard the 


A Misunderstood Hero 


238 

tremble in his voice and saw the quiver of his lip 
as he turned his face to mine, and said, 

“ I shall always remember your birthday. Miss 
Agatha.” 

“ Please God, the worst is over between them,” 
I thought. “ There are brighter days ahead for 
my dear lad, now.” 

Then I tried to go to sleep, but I could not do 
so. Always, as I had nearly dropped off, I would 
find myself wide awake again laughing over little 
Saint holding the great cake out to me, with his 
black face all puckered up in his attempts to re- 
member my hard name, or his impish sister 
would again be flying round in a circle, tri- 
umphantly declaring that she “knowed it was 
Pop-in-time de berry fus’ ting.” 

However, my last waking thought must have 
been given to Aunt Mirny, as I recalled the delight 
which shone in her broad face when she heard 
the loud applause which greeted her little grand- 
children, as they finished their pretty dance, 
made their low bows, and ran down to her arms 
where she stood in the hall doorway. 


CHAPTEE XIII 


WHO SHOT THE HORSE 

A FEW mornings later, I was sitting with my 
book under the trees at the west side of the 
house, when Philip chanced to draw near. He 
was alone, and it occurred to me that here was 
the opportunity for which I had been seeking 
ever since the day when the snake had been 
killed. 

I wished to see if I could not, by pointing out 
some of his faults, kindly and gently, and by 
showing him how wrong his conduct had been on 
that occasion, bring about a better way of think- 
ing on his part, with a determination to break away 
from those habits of untruthfulness and deceit 
which must surely, if not speedily overcome, lead 
to his utter ruin. 

It had crossed my mind more than once since 
that day that Philip seemed to shun me. To be 
sure, during the birthday festivities he had been 
quite his own frank and genial self, but after- 
ward I observed that he did not come to me any 
more for those merry chats which he had once 
seemed to enjoy as well as I, and several times 
when I addressed some casual remark to him, I 

239 


240 


A Misunderstood Hero 


fancied he turned away with something of a 
frown and an uneasy look on his face, as if he 
wished to withdraw himself from my notice. 

Whether this were fancy on my part, or 
whether Frank had “ talked to him,” as he had 
promised, I did not know. I thought it quite 
probable, however, that such an interview had 
taken place between the brothers, and that 
Philip, feeling ashamed and uncomfortable in 
the knowledge of my being a witness of the kill- 
ing of the snake and a listener to the false story 
he had told in regard to it, was now as anxious 
to avoid me as formerly he had been willing to 
respond to my slightest invitation to a friendly 
chat or stroll, whenever his many other occupa- 
tions did not stand in the way. 

“ Come here, Philip,” I said, ‘‘ and let us talk 
together a little while.” 

But Philip, as soon as his eyes rested on me, 
stopped and hesitated, as if he wished to turn 
away, and now when I called to him, he still 
hung back and seemed unwilling to come. There 
was a sullen look on his face, and when I rose 
from my seat and held out my hand to him, he 
drew away, muttering something which I could 
not catch. 

“ Philip, do n’t go,” I said. ‘‘ I want to talk 
to you a little about something which happened 
the other day.” 

“ I know you do,” he suddenly burst out. “ I 


Who Shot the Horse 


241 


know you do. I know all about it, and I won’t 
stay to hear it. It ’s none of your business, and 
I do n’t care if you did hear every word of it. 
I ’ll say what I please, for all you and Frank. It ’s 
only Frank you care about, anyhow. You ’ve 
always liked him, and you never cared about me. 
You just hate me.” 

“ Philip ! ” I exclaimed, astonished, looking at 
the angry boy who stood in front of me with his 
hands clenched and his eyes fairly blazing with 
wrath. I tried to get in a word, but he would 
not let me. 

“ Yes, Frank ’s the one you ’ve chosen. And 
Aunt Margaret says it’s the strangest thing. 
You ’re going to take him to your own beautiful 
home, and give him everything he wants, only I 
hope father won’t let him go. And Aunt Mar- 
garet says she believes you’ll leave all your 
money to him when you die. You can’t bear me, 
but I do n’t care. I ’m glad of it, for I just hate 
you, you old Miss Agatha. So there ! ” 

With that, he whirled about in the path and 
rushed off to the house, leaving me utterly as- 
tounded at the angry words which he had hurled 
upon me, and at the angrier looks. 

I sat quite still, too confused for the moment 
to think. Then it all came back to me. What a 
rage the child had been in ! He knew that I was 
aware of his untruthfulness, and hated me be- 
cause I knew it. He begrudged his brother the 


242 


A Misunderstood Hero 


one friend whom the lonely boy had ever gained 
and had flown into a passion in which envy, jeal- 
ousy and all unkindness had their share, because 
that friend had not been given to him instead. 
Poor, angry Philip ! 

Yet when I thought it over I could not be 
angry with him, even if he did hate “ old Miss 
Agatha.” I remembered the child’s faulty bring- 
ing up. What could one expect from two chil- 
dren reared in such an atmosphere as centered 
round their Aunt Margaret? If it had been 
bad for Frank, Philip had, in his way, been in- 
jured no less. She was a strange woman, I 
thought. How little discretion she had shown 
in confiding to a child like Philip any specula- 
tions she might have in regard to the future dis- 
posal of my property ! I felt like laughing as I 
thought of it. Was there ever a woman who 
could look so wise and yet say such foolish things 
as Mrs. Archer ! 

However, I could not laugh when I thought of 
Philip, but wondered how I could make friends 
with him or gain any influence over him again. 
Perhaps I was only a foolish old maid, and as 
anybody might have said, it was none of my 
business, but I had really wanted to help the boy 
and had a sore feeling in my heart because I had 
so utterly failed. 

That was an unlucky day ! If I had been sad- 
dened all the morning by what had happened be- 


Who Shot the Horse 243 

tween Philip and me, it was nothing to the con- 
sternation, the grief, which I experienced at a 
later hour. Even after this lapse of time I hate 
to think about it ; but it has its place in my story 
and must be told. 

It was about four in the afternoon and I was 
sitting alone in my own room, when I heard the 
sound of a gun fired, apparently close at hand. 
I was not particularly startled, because it was no 
uncommon thing for Mr. Sinclair and John Dale, 
and even the servants, to shoot at whatever game 
they might find, or at a target set up somewhere 
in the woods. I gave it a momentary thought 
and then dismissing it from my mind went on 
with my work. 

But about half an hour later, when I came 
down from my room, I saw a little group of peo- 
ple gathered on the porch, talking over something 
very eagerly and anxiously. Mrs. Archer and 
Mrs. Dale were there and two or three of the 
other ladies also. Madge was speaking excitedly 
as I approached. 

‘‘ O Miss Agatha,” she cried, as she saw me, 
“ what dreadful thing do you think has happened ? 
Frank has killed Mrs. Dale’s very best horse ! ” 

“ Why, Madge, you cannot mean it ! ” I ex- 
claimed. 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” she said. “ He has shot him 
with father’s gun, and the horse is dying up there 
on the side hill.” She pointed to the hill which 


244 ^ Misunderstood Hero 

was back of the garden at the south side of the 
house. We could see some men there bending 
over a dark form which I knew must be ‘‘ Prince 
Charlie,” a favorite young horse of Mrs. Dale’s 
and considered the most valuable animal on the 
farm. 

There were tears in Mrs. Dale’s eyes, and 
Gertrude was weeping silently. 

‘‘How did it happen? Did you say it was 
Frank ? ” I asked in amazement. 

“ Yes, it was Frank, the boy you have been 
teaching yourself to think everything that is 
trustworthy, noble and good,” said Mrs. Archer, 
with a flushed, indignant face. “ I think now 
you will admit how mistaken you have been in 
your estimate of his character. He has deliber- 
ately gone to his father’s room, taken his gun, 
which all three of the children have always been 
forbidden to touch, loaded it and carried it off 
with him to the woods. And this is the result ! 
But it has always been so. From his very baby- 
hood he has been the same sly, underhanded boy, 
always making mischief in his silent way. In 
spite of his hermit-like mode of living and his 
habit of shunning every one around him, all the 
harm which has been wrought about the house 
has been chiefly his doing. His father has been 
compelled to punish him a hundred times where 
Philip has been punished once. For Philip, with 
all his merry, careless ways, would never wilfully 


Who Shot the Horse 245 

do wrong. The two are as different as day and 
night.” 

Here something impelled me to say, “ How do 
you know Frank did it ? Did any one see him?” 

“ No, no one saw him ; but of course he did it,” 
said Madge. “ I will tell you all about it. Miss 
Agatha. Father and I were taking a walk up 
there on the top of the hill when we heard the 
gun go off, and then we heard some one scream. 
We flew down the hill, through the trees, till we 
came to the clearing over there,” pointing to 
where we could see the people gathered about 
Prince Charlie, ‘‘ and there stood Frank all alone, 
looking at the horse in a dazed kind of way, as 
if he did n’t know what he was doing. The gun 
was right down at his feet, and the poor horse 
was lying there in his agony. 

“Just as we came down the hill, Mr. Dale 
rushed up from the garden where he had been 
at work. So we all got there together. Father 
knew right away that Frank must have done it, 
for no one else was there, and it could n’t have 
been any one but him. So father spoke to him 
pretty sternly, and Frank began to tremble all 
over and looked as if he wanted to sink into the 
ground. But he told father he did n’t do it. He 
said he was just in among the trees a little way 
and he heard the shot and came out and saw the 
horse and the gun lying there, but no one else 
was there. 


A Misunderstood Hero 


246 

“We could n’t believe a word of it, though, for 
he looked guilty all over him, and besides, father 
said if he had been only such a little way off 
among the trees, as he must have been to get to 
the spot before we did, he must have been near 
enough to see the one run away who had shot 
the horse ; for we were there in two minutes after 
the gun went off, and so was Mr. Dale, and Frank 
was there before that. Father and Mr. Dale 
both said that no one could have got up among 
the trees without some one seeing them, so of 
course it must have been Frank. 

“ But when father talked to him and com- 
manded him to tell the truth, and confess that he 
killed the horse, he would not do it, but just 
trembled and cried and said, ‘ O father, do try to 
believe me ! I did n’t do it, I did not.’ But 
when father asked him, ‘ Who did then ? ’ he 
hung his head and hesitated and then said, ‘ I 
do n’t know, and I do n’t want to know.’ And 
that was all we could get out of him. Then he 
put on his sullen frown and looked as hateful 
and obstinate as a mule and would n’t say a word. 
So father told him to go to his room, and stay 
there till he saw him again. I do n’t envy Frank 
when he does see him again, for my part.” 

“ Oh, I hope your father will do nothing rash, 
dear Madge,” I said. “ I hope he will at least 
wait till he is sure that Frank did it. For ray 
part, I cannot believe that he is the guilty one. 


Who Shot the Horse 247 

If he said he did not do it, I believe him. I 
know that he would not lie about it. Where 
was Philip ? ” 

“ Yes, no doubt you would like to think it was 
Philip,” exclaimed Mrs. Archer, with scorn on 
her lip and a steely gleam in her eye. “ Have 
I not told you that Philip is not disobedient, not 
malicious, not vicious in any way ? Is it likely 
that he would go to his father’s room, take his 
gun against his express command, carry it to the 
woods and shoot a horse with it ? It grows 
somewhat chilly out here; I shall go in,” she said 
loftily, as she drew her scarf about her shoulders 
and stepped haughtily away. 

‘‘ Philip and Kalph were nowhere around. Miss 
Agatha,” Madge put in coldly, “ and have n’t 
been since dinner-time. I suppose they are off 
playing somewhere.” 

Just here Mr. Sinclair approached. He had an 
angry, shamed look on his face, and did not stop 
to speak to anybody, but glancing neither to the 
right nor the left, ascended the steps and went 
into the hall, and up the stairs to his own room. 

I trembled for Frank, fearing his father was 
even then on his way to punish him. I was 
somewhat relieved, however, to hear John Dale 
say that he himself had begged Mr. Sinclair to do 
nothing until it could be more definitely ascer- 
tained whether the boy had spoken the truth or 
not. Mr. Sinclair had agreed to wait until he 


248 A Misunderstood Hero 

could question Philip and Ralph, and until John 
could learn the whereabouts of the different men 
about the farm at the time of the accident. 

However, both men felt positive in their own 
minds that it must have been Frank who had 
shot the horse ; for there had been no time, they 
thought, for any one to escape to the trees and 
conceal themselves, so quickly had Mr. Sin- 
clair, Madge and John Dale appeared upon the 
scene. 

The poor horse was now quite dead, lying 
stretched upon the grass, where a short hour ago 
he had been happily feeding. Mrs. Dale and 
Gertrude found it impossible to restrain their 
tears as they gazed up the hillside at their beau- 
tiful pet, and John looked anxious and sad, as he 
turned away and left us. 

But for my part, I could not think that it was 
Frank who had shot the horse. I wished that I 
could see the boy and learn from his own lips 
exactly what had taken place. But he had been 
sent to his own room in disgrace, and was doubt- 
less there now, shut in alone with his misery, 
needing comfort and sympathy and finding it 
nowhere, his spirit wounded and sore from the 
stern displeasure and harsh reproofs of the father 
whom he loved so dearly, his whole being roused 
in resentment at this great trouble so suddenly 
thrust upon him, and with the thought that no 
one would believe him. I longed to assure him 


Who Shot the Horse 249 

that I, at least, was still his staunch old friend, 
that in spite of every apparent evidence to the con- 
trary, I was sure of his innocence. Since he had 
said that he did not kill the horse I believed him. 

I hoped to see him after supper, but he was 
not at the table, nor was he to be found in any of 
his usual haunts after the meal was over. The 
other boys, too, were very late. They came 
strolling past the side porch, where we could see 
them through the door of the dining-room, when 
we had almost finished supper. 

They looked tired and warm, as if they had had 
a long walk, but otherwise seemed quite their own 
bright selves. Philip was talking very fast about * 
something in his merry way and Kalph was lis- 
tening. 

Mr. Sinclair rose from the table and went out 
to the porch to speak to them. Presently we 
all followed him, anxious to see what light the 
two boys could throw upon the accident. Mr. 
Sinclair was questioning them closely. I heard 
him ask them where they had been all the after- 
noon. 

“ Why, up to the hotel, fiying kites with Tom 
Murray and the other boys,” said Philip, who as 
usual was spokesman. “ Why, father ? ” 

“ Do you know what a sad accident we have 
had here ? ” asked his father. 

“Why, no, — what?” exclaimed Philip, with 
his eyes opened wide. 


250 


A Misunderstood Hero 


Mr. Sinclair then told them about the killing 
of the horse. 

“You are sure you know nothing about it?” 
he asked. 

“How could we, father ? WeVe been away 
all the afternoon. Tom came down here for us 
to go up with him to the hotel just after dinner. 
We went right away, and we’ve been there ever 
since. How could we know anything about it ? ” 

“That is certainly true, brother,” said Mrs. 
Archer. “I saw Tom Murray when he came, 
and heard him ask the boys to go with him, and 
saw them start off together.” 

“I think that settles it,” said Mr. Sinclair. 
“You definitely say that you did not go to my 
room and get my gun and that you did not shoot 
the horse, Philip ? ” 

“ Father, I did not,” said Philip solemnly. 

Mr. Sinclair glanced at Kalph, when Mrs. Todd 
said : 

“ Kalph, you did not ? ” 

Kalph shook his head, and Philip said quickly : 
“ How could he when we were together all the 
time ? ” 

For one minute it flashed across my mind that 
Kalph, at least, knew something about it, for 
when his mother lifted her head with a little 
pride and said, “ I know that he did not, because 
he says so, and whatever fault my son may have 
he has never lied to me yet ! ” I saw Kalph’s face 


Who Shot the Horse 


251 


flush, and he hung his head. However, it might 
have been his mother’s praise which caused his 
embarrassment. 

“ There is nothing more to be said, then,” said 
Mr. Sinclair, shortly. He drew in his breath 
sharply, and I saw his face darken as he turned 
away. 

“ O Frank, Frank, my poor boy ! ” thought I. 
“ If I could help you to bear it ! ” I knew what 
that determined look must mean. 

Mr. Sinclair went through the dining-room, on 
through the hall and so, I supposed, on up the 
stairs to Frank’s room, for a little time after we 
saw him passing by the side of the house, and 
Frank was with him. The boy was sobbing and 
limping along as quickly as he could, held in the 
strong grasp of his father’s hand. They were on 
their way to the barn. 

I know not what happened then, for I could 
stay no longer. Old woman as I was, I turned 
from everybody and fled, more swiftly than I 
would have believed I could, to the solitude of 
my own room, and there I flung myself upon my 
pillow and wept bitter, bitter tears for my little 
lad. 

Why must he bear this new trouble ? Had not 
his lot been hard enough before ? Must his sad 
little heart be torn anew by his father’s cruel 
blows and crueler words ? 

I could not believe the child had done the deed. 


252 


A Misunderstood Hero 


All my life I have not only loved my friends, I 
have lelieved in them. Having taken Frank into 
my very heart I could not now think him false in 
word or act. “ He says he did not do it, and I 
believe him,” I kept saying. “ I know him to be 
truthful in spite of everything his aunt can say.” 

Was he shielding Philip as usual ? But that 
seemed impossible. Philip had appeared abso- 
lutely innocent and unconscious. His aunt had 
observed him on his way to the hotel, and I could 
not see how it was possible for him to have been 
in two places at once. I could not but admit 
that things looked very black for Frank. 

I did not leave my room that evening. I went 
to bed at an earlier hour than usual, but slept 
only by uneasy snatches until the early morning. 
Then I rose, dressed quickly and hastened out of 
doors to find my little friend, to comfort him, to 
assure him of my faith and trust in him, to give 
him my tender, loving sympathy. 

But I could find him nowhere. Though I 
hunted in every spot where I had ever seen him, 
it was quite useless. I listened for Laddie’s joy- 
ous barking with which he was wont to greet me 
every morning, rushing out from some place of 
concealment among the bushes and fairly pros- 
trating himself at my feet in the intensity of his 
welcome, but he was absent now. Both boy and 
dog had vanished from the scene almost as if they 
had never existed. 


Who Shot the Horse 


253 


I wandered sadly among the paths and nooks 
where I thought they might possibly be hidden, 
but with no result except to tire my poor old feet 
and wet my skirts with the mountain dew. 
Finally I found myself approaching the spot 
where the accident had happened. I came down 
the hill, as Madge and her father had done the 
day before, through the woods which bordered 
the clearing where Frank had stood when they 
found him alone with the gun at his feet. A few 
yards farther down the hill I could see where the 
wounded horse in his dying agony had torn the 
ground all round him with his hoofs. He was 
there no longer, but the signs of his struggle 
were visible still, and would be for many a long 
day. 

As I thought of the sorrow of the Dale family 
over their beautiful pet, I grieved with them 
anew. But at least it was some small comfort to 
know that they were to suffer no pecuniary loss 
from the cruel disaster. For Gertrude, late that 
night, on her way to bed, had confided to me 
that Mr. Sinclair had told her mother that he 
should hold himself responsible for the money 
part of the misfortune, insisting that he and he 
alone, must undo, so far as lay in his power, the 
wrong which his son had done. I had thought 
of making good the loss myself in some tactful 
way, for Mrs. Dale could not afford to bear it. 

From several little things which I had ob- 


254 


A Misunderstood Hero 


served, I believed that Mr. Sinclair was not a 
rich man, and, indeed, his sister had told me as 
much. I should have been pleased, therefore, if 
the loss need not have fallen upon him either, but 
of course when I learned of his positive decision 
in the matter there was nothing for me to say. 
I would not venture to cross his path in such a 
case as this, though I heartily hoped I might soon 
find courage to do so in something which lay 
much nearer my heart, — his treatment of his son 
Frank. 

I looked about me wondering if there could be 
any place to which the person who had held the 
gun could have contrived to fiee and conceal 
himself, before Frank arrived on the spot. But 
there seemed no possible opportunity for any one 
to have done so. It was simply a little green 
glade where I stood. A few rods above and 
around it was a grove of slender trees of young 
growth, filled in with thick bushes and under- 
brush, where one might indeed be able to hide, 
but Frank had come through it from one side, 
and Mr. Sinclair and Madge from another, too 
quickly to render it at all probable that the guilty 
one could have succeeded in reaching its shel- 
ter in season to avoid discovery. Below me, 
through a narrow fringe of trees, lay the hillside 
where the horse had been feeding, with the gar- 
den still farther down the slope. 

On the opposite side of the little clearing, a 


Who Shot the Horse 255 

few yards from where I stood, was something 
which seemed like a great crack in the earth, a 
sort of ravine or gorge deepened and hollowed 
out at some former time by the action of running 
water. As I walked over to it I could see that 
it might be a dozen feet wide and half as many j 
in depth, though it was so filled in with bushes 
and plants, stones and rubbish, that it was im- 
possible to see in most places that it had any 
bottom at all. It ran along the edge of the clear- 
ing and on up the hill among the trees, where it 
was lost to view. 

I wondered if it had been possible for the cul- 
prit to fly to this hiding-place and conceal him- 
self among the underbrush, before the others 
could reach the spot. I decided that it was 
possible but hardly probable, for in the first 
place it seemed as if no one would have thought 
of it, since it fell away so suddenly from the 
level ground of the glade as to be quite invisible 
from the spot where the accident occurred. 
Moreover, it was such a wild growth of bushes 
and vines, mixed in with rough and jagged 
stones, and with dead branches sticking out in 
all directions, that I did not see how any one 
could have obtained foothold long enough to get 
down there, even if he had thought of it. Still 
less could I conceive how one could have clam- 
bered out again if he had managed to get down 
into it. Besides, it seemed the home of snakes 


A Misunderstood Hero 


256 

and lizards and all sorts of creeping creatures, 
and I could not imagine Philip — upon whom my 
mind would dwell in spite of myself — as daring 
to attempt to enter such a place. 

As I stood looking down into it, my eye fell on 
a bunch of pink tissue paper tied about with a bit 
of twine, which lay tangled in among the twigs 
and leaves of one of the highest bushes midway 
across the ravine. It looked fresh and clean, as 
if it had lately fallen, and I wondered idly for a 
moment how it chanced to be there, but it told 
me nothing, and I walked away feeling more 
hopeless than before. 

As they all said, it could have been no other 
than Frank, and yet I knew in my heart that it 
was not Frank. 

Frank was not at the breakfast-table, nor was 
anything said concerning his absence. Mr. Sin- 
clair ate in silence, and though the rest of us 
ventured a remark now and then, it was in a 
half-hearted way, and everybody seemed under a 
cloud. Philip and Kalph looked embarrassed 
and unhappy, and for the first time since I had 
known them, had nothing to say. It was hardly 
to be wondered at, however, when their elders 
were, one and all, ill at ease, anxious and utterly 
unlike themselves. 

Immediately after the meal was ended, I saw 
Henry with a tray of food ascending the stairs, 
and became aware that Frank was to have his 


Who Shot the Horse 


257 


breakfast in his own room, but whether because 
he was ill or for some other reason, I could not 
discover. 

An hour later, Madge came to my room, and 
told me, in her confiding way, how unhappy 
they were all feeling about her brother Frank, 
how he still adhered to his first statement that 
he had not shot the horse, in spite of his father’s 
promise that he would forgive him if he would con- 
fess his wrong-doing and try to be a better boy 
in future. When asked if he knew who had 
done it, if he had not, he grew sullen and refused 
to say anything. His father had thereupon 
again punished him severely, and left him to him- 
self, feeling that it was useless to try to do any- 
thing more with him. 

At dinner-time his father sent for him to take 
his place at the table as usual, and presently he 
came in, looking as he did in the days when I 
first knew him. The old sullen frown had come 
back, and he glanced neither to the right nor the 
left as, with a sharply drawn breath, he slipped 
into his seat beside me. 

His face showed the marks of heavy weeping, 
and he looked tired and worn with suffering, as I 
had never seen a child look before. But as he 
sat there, I saw his hand clench and a determined 
look come about his lips, as if he said, “They 
shall not know that I am suffering.” 

Nobody paid any attention to him, and pres- 


A Misunderstood Hero 


258 

ently, while the others were talking, I ventured 
to place my hand on his arm and speak a kind 
word in his ear, but he drew away from me as if 
my touch had burnt him, turned his back to me as 
much as possible and made not the slightest 
answer to my remark. Indeed, he was the old 
Frank come back again, and the little friend 
I had grown to love so dearly had utterly 
vanished. 

Could it be that the others were right, and 
that I had been mistaken in the child’s character 
after all ? 

As I turned away I caught Mrs. Archer’s gaze 
upon me. There was a half -triumphant smile 
upon her lips, as if to say : “ What do you think 

of your young hero now ? ” It pained and sad- 
dened me. I finished my dinner in silence and 
escaped to my chamber as soon as possible. 

It was probably an hour or two afterward that, 
as I sat at my window, I became conscious of 
two little forms crouched on the ground in an 
angle formed by the barn and an adjoining shed, 
at no great distance away. It was Frank sitting 
there, with Laddie, as usual, for his companion. 

It was a time when no one was apt to be 
about, for the ladies were usually in their rooms 
at this hour and the men far away in the fields. 
He had probably expected to meet no one and 
had ventured out of his room for a breath of 
fresh air. 


Who Shot the Horse 


259 

But presently his solitude was broken, for 
Philip and Kalph appeared and passed within a 
few feet of him. They did not speak, but I 
could see that they looked at him curiously as 
they walked by. 

Frank, on his part, took no notice of them, and 
did not even change his position. In a few 
moments, drawn by an attraction which they 
could not resist, they retraced their steps and 
passed by again, still regarding him fixedly, but 
saying nothing. 

Suddenly, Frank started up before them with 
his face flushed and his form proud and erect. 
His voice rang out loud and clear and I heard 
every word. 

‘‘Yes,” he said, “I know what you want, 
Philip. I know what you want. You want to 
know how it felt when the whip came down. 
And I will tell you. It hurt me horribly, Philip,” 
and I heard his voice quiver. “ The blows were 
hard to bear and my father’s cruel words were 
harder yet, but I ’d go through it all again — yes, 
ten times over — before, for one moment, I ’d be you^ 
or you ! ” And he held his arm out straight and 
pointed with his finger at Philip and then at Ralph. 

The two boys hung their heads and crept away 
like whipped dogs, while Frank stood with his 
head held high and a proud scorn upon his face, 
as he watched them out of his sight. 

Then I knew who had shot the horse. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE OLD MINE 

The days passed, and though I tried often to 
find Frank, in the hope of renewing our old 
friendship, I met with no success. He shunned 
me as he shunned every one else. If I spoke to 
him at the table he either scowled, pretending 
not to hear, or answered so shortly and sullenly 
as to leave me no encouragement to make further 
advances. 

All the gentle kindliness of manner, the pleas- 
ant smile which had learned to find its way to 
his lips, the shy interest with which he had occa- 
sionally listened to the conversation of those 
around him, were gone now, and in their place 
was left merely the listless, apathetic boy with 
the gloomy eyes and sullen mouth, whom I had 
known two months before. 

There was no need now to watch, as I had 
sometimes lately done, for the sudden gleam of 
interest in the father’s eyes, when they chanced 
occasionally to fall upon his son’s face. Poor 
Frank had shut himself up into his old dull, heavy 
shell again, and all my fine dreams of a better 
understanding between his father and him, which 
I had so longed to see realized, were shattered. 

260 


The Old Mine 


261 

Mr. Sinclair never spoke to him, or even 
glanced toward him, nor did any other member 
of the household, so far as I could see. Even 
Kalph, with whom he had lately been on such 
friendly terms, seemed quite estranged now, and 
the two took no more notice of each other than 
if they had never met. Frank was left com- 
pletely to himself, and came and went as he chose 
without let or hindrance from anybody. No one 
knew, and no one cared, where he was from 
morning till night, if only he were home at meal- 
times and when the hour for bed arrived. 

I say nobody cared, but I, at least, went about 
sad and unhappy in these days which were so 
dark to my little friend. I would have given 
much to be able to lift, even in some slight de- 
gree, the heavy cloud which seemed to settle 
about him, but all my efforts to bring about a 
meeting were rendered unavailing by his deter- 
mination to keep beyond my reach. Now and 
then I would catch a glimpse of him in some 
path or crossing the lawn, but he was always 
walking hurriedly, as if anxious to avoid obser- 
vation and escape to his beloved woods as quickly 
as possible. 

Generally he was alone, except for Laddie, who 
never left him, but several times the two were 
with “Uncle Jone,” trudging along by his side, 
as if thankful for that companionship at least. 
The old man looked kind and as if he would be a 


262 


A Misunderstood Hero 


friend to the lonely boy in his hour of need. 
I hoped that his kindness might some time be re- 
turned to him in tenfold measure. 

At last, however, there came a day when I 
met my little fugitive face to face in a broad path 
in the woods, where he could not well escape, 
though even then he would have tried to hurry 
past had I not quickly caught him by the hand 
and held him fast. 

“ O Frank,” I cried, “ do n’t run away from 
me, my dear. Why will you no longer let me be 
your friend? Don’t you know how I grieve 
with you, how sorry I feel that all this trouble 
has come upon you ? ” 

Frank’s face reddened, as he held his head 
down, and I understood him to say something 
about not wanting anybody to be sorry for him. 

“ Is it because you think everybody is against 
you, my dear, that you do n’t want to speak to 
me ? Do n’t you know that I believe you inno- 
cent, Frank ? I have never thought you shot the 
horse. Always, since I heard that you said you 
had not done it, I have felt sure it was not you. 
I know that if it had been, you would have con- 
fessed it like the brave, truthful boy you are, and 
when you denied it I knew that it was not you. 
Did you think that your old friend was against 
you too, my dear ? ” 

Frank, who had ceased to try to pull away his 
hand, glanced up into my face with great tears 


The Old Mine 


263 

welling in his eyes and his lips quivering. “ I 
thought you felt just like all the rest about it,” 
he said, and suddenly his voice broke and he put 
his face against my arm in his old way and be- 
gan to sob. 

“ But, my dear, I never did feel like the rest, 
and now that you know it, come and sit down 
with me on this log, and I will comfort you and 
help you all I can to bear it. You shall tell me 
all about it ” 

But here, Frank, who at first seemed willing to 
let me lead him to the seat, suddenly drew back 
again. ‘‘ ISTo, no, no ! ” he cried. “ I cannot, I 
cannot. Miss Agatha.” 

Snatching his hand from mine, he rushed 
away, stumbling as he went, but never stopping 
till he was far below me down the hillside. 

It was very strange. He had longed for my 
sympathy and had meant to let me comfort him, 
I was sure, but some sudden, painful thought had 
come to him and he had fled away to bear his 
burden all alone once more and to brood in si- 
lence over the grief which he knew at last that 
his old friend wished to share. I could not un- 
derstand it and felt more unhappy about my lit- 
tle lad than I had ever done before. 

But Frank was not the only one whose behav- 
ior was changed and unnatural. It was strange 
to see how unlike themselves both Philip and 
Kalph appeared about this time. Ever since the 


264 A Misunderstood Hero 

morning when I had seen the three boys together, 
when Frank had hurled his scornful words at 
them and they had hung their heads and slunk 
away, they had seemed to dwell apart. Formerly 
they had been always together, and wherever 
Philip’s pretty striped cap could be seen darting 
in and out among the trees, there, flying after it, 
was the well-worn old straw hat with its fringe 
of fiery hue which no one could have failed 
to recognize as belonging to “ Little Eedhead.” 

But now all was changed. They wandered 
about the grounds apart, miserable and forlorn. 
Once or twice, it is true, I saw them talking to- 
gether, but it was evidently in anger, for their 
faces were both clouded with heavy frowns and 
their tones were loud and defiant, though I did 
not distinguish words. Whether the other mem- 
bers of the household had begun to take note 
of this gloomy state of affairs between the two 
boys, who but a little while before had been such 
loving comrades, I never knew, for about this time 
something of such an appalling nature transpired 
that all these trivial matters were sent far, far 
from our minds. 

It must have been two or three days after the 
brief interview with Frank which I have just re- 
corded, that we elders were gathered upon the 
lawn, late in the afternoon, waiting for the sup- 
per-hour to arrive. There had been a heavy 
shower off behind ‘‘ Old Bald Top,” our favorite 


The Old Mine 


265 

mountain, the one which sloped so gently down 
to the lawn and garden and formed the southern 
boundary of the farm. 

We had been watching the dense black clouds 
which had overhung the mountain’s brow for an 
hour or more, roll away, leaving that part of the 
sky as bright and clear as the blue above our 
own heads. 

Suddenly down one of the paths which ex- 
tended from the base far up among the heights 
of this very mountain, we perceived human forms 
hurrying along with headlong speed. As they 
drew nearer we could distinguish them, and saw 
their faces wild with terror. There were two 
men. Uncle Jone and another servant, Philip, 
Kalph, the boy from the hotel called Tom Mur- 
ray and his younger brother. Instinctively every 
one of us sped up the path to meet the frightened 
men and boys. 

What could it be that had brought that look of 
terror to their faces ? Presently Philip pressed 
on before the others, fairly flying down the path, 
and flung himself against his father. 

“ Father, Frank is drowned ! ” he screamed. 
‘‘ My brother Frank is drowned ! I shall never 
see my brother again ! ” 

Spent with grief and fright, the boy would have 
fallen, had not his father caught him in his 
arms. 

“ Philip,” he exclaimed, “ what do you mean ? 


266 


A Misunderstood Hero 


What has happened ? ” But Philip was sobbing 
so violently he could say no more. Something 
was wrong about Frank. That was all we could 
make out at first. 

“ What has happened ? ” demanded Mr. Sin- 
clair. 

“ Father, he ’s drowned,” sobbed Philip. 

‘‘ Hush, child ! Are you crazy ? How could 
he drown when there is no water within miles of 
us ? You tell me what has happened,” he said 
sharply to Uncle Jone. 

“ Yes, sir,” said the old man obediently. The 
tears were streaming down his cheeks and his 
trembling hands were raised, as he burst out : 

“ Sir, I doan’ know how ter say de words, but 
de chile am gone. He ’s done drown in de ole 
mine, an’ I cayn’t make it no diff’unt, do what I 
may.” 

I cannot tell what others did at this point. 
For myself, I was overcome with horror and dis- 
may, with grief and yet with unbelief that such 
a dreadful thing could happen. My little lad ! 
Was this the end of everything? I seemed to 
see the trees all swimming around me and felt the 
ground sinking beneath my feet. But presently 
I was listening again to the voices. Uncle Jone 
was telling what had happened. 

“ I went back down, sir, as soon as I could, but 
de water was dar, eight or ten feet ’bove whar 
he’d stood, an’ no boy an’ no dog dar, sir. He 


The Old Mine 


267 

done gone, sir, an’ if my prayers ’ud bring him 
back he’d be here now. I cayn’t say no mo’, 
’deed I cayn’t.” 

I saw the old man put his hands before his 
face and heard him sob. 

“ It cannot be ! ” exclaimed Mr. Sinclair. 
Through my own grief I saw that the man 
looked dazed. 

“ My son Frank ! My Helen’s boy ! ” he cried. 
All at once the father seemed to wake within 
him. “ He is my son,” he cried sharply. “ Come, 
show me the place.” He started up the moun- 
tain path followed by a little crowd of people 
who had gathered around I knew not when nor 
how. 

They were gone now, men, women and chil- 
dren, leaving me alone, trembling and weeping, 
saying to myself that it could not be, that this 
must not be ! 

Presently I became aware that Uncle Jone 
stood near me. He had not gone with the 
others. “ Whar ’s de use ter go,” he said ; “ de 
chile ’s done gone.” He, too, was weeping. “ I 
lubbed de boy, I did, miss,” he cried. “ Hub- 
buddy could help lubbin’ dat little castaway dat 
knowed him as he was. Po’ mudderless an’ 
faderless lamb ! ” 

“ Tell me about it, uncle,” I said, when I could 
speak. 

“Yes, miss, dat I will. You an’ me was his 


268 


A Misunderstood Hero 


frien’s, an’ all de Men’s, ’pears like, dat he had in 
de whole worl’, po’ boy ! ” 

Then Uncle done went on to relate what had 
happened. I can tell it calmly enough now, but 
it was hard to listen then. It seemed that Uncle 
done, months before, had dropped an ax, with 
which he had been chopping wood, down the 
mouth of the old abandoned mine, which lay half 
a mile away along the slope of the mountain. I 
had never been there, but in one of our earlier 
walks Frank had once pointed out the path lead- 
ing to it. On this afternoon Uncle done, in com- 
pany with one of the field-hands, had gone to 
this place for the purpose of recovering the ax. 

There was still an old windlass there and a 
large bucket and rope, by which strangers w^ho 
might occasionally wish to visit the mine, went 
down the shaft. 

Inasmuch as he was the lighter as well as the 
older of the two, it was Uncle done’s intention to 
get into this bucket and be let down by the 
stronger man. As he was about to step into it, 
Frank happened to come up and asked Uncle 
done if he might not go too. 

The good-natured old man told him to jump 
in, and Frank climbed over the side of the bucket 
and nestled down happily by Uncle done’s side. 
Then Laddie whined to follow his master, and 
Uncle done consented to take a third passenger 
also. 


The Old Mine 


269 

All went well. Uncle Jone had a candle with 
him, and when they reached the bottom of the 
shaft, he and Frank began to hunt for the ax. 
They had just discovered it among some dead 
leaves and rubbish, when they heard Philip and 
Kalph above, begging Uncle Jone to let them 
come down, too, and see the mine. Uncle Jone 
thought there could be no harm in granting their 
wishes, so he told them to wait till he came up 
and then he would let them down. He took his 
ax, got into the bucket and was drawn up, 
leaving the candle with Frank, who wished to 
stay a while longer and be drawn up with the 
other boys. 

When Uncle Jone arrived at the top, he found 
not only Philip and Kalph there, but Tom Murray 
and his brother also. As they all wished to visit 
the mine. Uncle Jone and the other man let them 
down, two at a time, bidding them to be careful 
not to get hurt in any way, and to be ready to 
come up when he called them. 

The boys amused themselves by “ exploring ” 
among the leaves and rubbish lying about, and 
then wandered a little way into one of the level, 
horizontal shafts which branched out from the 
bottom where they had landed. Presently the 
men above heard them shouting : 

“Oh, let us up quick, Uncle Jone; the mine’s 
all filling up with water.” 

At first Uncle Jone thought the boys were 


A Misunderstood Hero 


270 

joking, but all at once he remembered that it 
had been raining heavily behind the hills, and he 
had heard how such a sudden shower had been 
known to flood the mine, probably by means of 
some unknown fissure through the rocks. Full 
of horror at this thought he called down to the 
boys to tell him where the water was. 

They answered that it was pouring in through 
the long horizontal shaft where they had been 
exploring. They had run back as fast as they 
could, ahead of it, but now it had reached the 
spot where they were standing grouped together 
about the bucket and was already over their 
shoes. 

‘‘Draw us up right away. Uncle Jone,” they 
begged. 

Uncle Jone had to think quickly. He told 
them they could not all come up at once, as the 
bucket was not large enough, but that the three 
smallest boys must get in first. He would draw 
them up, and then send the bucket down for the 
other two. 

But when the bucket came up, four boys were 
in it, holding to the sides and to each other as 
best they could, and Frank was not with them. 
When Uncle Jone came to this part of his story 
he burst into tears, and said : 

“ I nebba waited fer a word, miss. I counted 
heads, an’ den I got inter de bucket an’ Sam let 
me down. I went in fear an’ tremblin’, hopin’ 


The Old Mine 


271 

an’ prayin’ I ’d fin’ de chile, but de muddy, yaller 
water was all up de sides ob de shaf’, an’ no sign 
ob boy or dog, eider. I knowed he was gone, but 
I jes’ could n’t hab it so, an’ I got up out’n de 
bucket an’ held onter de side ob it as well as I 
could, an’ felt wid my feet all about in de water. 
But it was jes’ like a deep well. Dar wa’ n’t no 
bottom to it, an’ den I knowed Frank was gone. 
De water kep’ cornin’ in all de time higher an’ 
higher, so I had ter git back inter de bucket an’ 
be drawed up.” 

The boys had been eager to tell Uncle Jone 
how it had happened that Frank was left behind. 
The three smallest boys were Kalph, Frank and 
the youngest Murray boy. When, in obedience 
to Uncle Tone’s call, they had climbed into the 
bucket, it was found that the water was coming 
so fast that it would not be safe to wait for the 
bucket to go up and be sent down again. Yet it 
was too small to carry them all. Even by hold- 
ing to the sides there was no possibility that they 
would reach the top without the risk of falling 
back into the water, or at least they had believed 
so. Tom Murray had crowded his way into the 
bucket, but Philip remained outside in an agony 
of fright and horror, screaming in anguish that 
he could not be left, begging the boys to save 
him, imploring them to make room for him, not 
to leave him there to die. 

Then Frank had called to him. “ Philip, you 


272 


A Misunderstood Hero 


shall have my place. I ’m coming, Philip.” And 
in some way, though wedged in among the boys, 
he had managed to scramble out of the bucket, 
with Laddie jumping after him. He went up to 
where Philip stood, put both arms round him and 
said : “ Philip, you are the one my father loves. 

You shall go and I will stay.” 

Then he had pushed him toward the bucket. 
Philip had climbed in, the word was given and 
the bucket was drawn up. 

Uncle done, when he came to this point in his 
story, said the boys were all crying and sobbing 
as they told him how they could never forget the 
look on Frank’s face as the bucket went up and 
they looked down upon him where he stood with 
his feet firmly planted and Laddie clasped in his 
arms. The light from the candle, where it had 
been placed in a niche of the rock, fell full upon 
his upturned face, and there was the strangest, 
sweetest expression on it as he called out, 

“Philip, tell my. father good-bye for me.” 
Then they had passed up out of his sight. 

How long I sat in that quiet spot, I cannot 
tell. The sun went down, the stars came out, 
but still I lingered alone with my grief for the 
child of my heart. Uncle done, restless and mis- 
erable, had long since left me. 

“ Dar ’s no use, miss,” he said, “ but ’pears like 
I cayn’t gib de chile up.” 

“ Uncle done,” I said, “ will you tell my dear 


The Old Mine 


273 


boy’s father just what you have told me, — what 
the boys said about his last words to Philip, and 
his message to his father ? ” 

“ ’Deed, dat I will, miss. I ’ll do it de bery 
fus’ ting I sees him.” 

For I felt that Frank’s father must learn some- 
thing at last of the noble, loving nature he had 
never known. 

Oh, how could that little life be broken off just 
here ! Of what use all the struggles and long- 
ings and hopes and fears that sensitive heart had 
known if this was the end of all ? But even as 
I asked the question in my helplessness, there 
came over me a strange feeling of peace. What 
were those words which suddenly stood forth 
from some dim corner of my memory ? 

“ round our restlessness His rest.” 

Why need my heart be troubled? Whether 
the child were here or there, what matter ? He 
was in his Father’s hand. Surely it was well 
with Frank. 

So I walked home under the stars, feeling 
strangely comforted. 


CHAPTEK XV 

PHILIP’S REPENTANCE 

When I drew near the steps of the porch, I 
saw Mr. Sinclair seated on one of the benches in 
the shadow of the house. He was alone, and his 
face was hidden in his hands. I wondered if 
Uncle done had already told him of Frank’s 
good-bye, and, if so, what thoughts the loving 
message had called forth in the father’s mind. 
But it was not for me to pry into the secrets of 
the proud man’s heart, and I would have hastened 
past him, had not my steps been suddenly ar- 
rested. 

Just as I reached the lowest step, Philip 
rushed down the stairway, through the hall and 
out upon the porch. 

‘‘ Father,” he cried, “ I can’t go to bed till I ’ve 
spoken to you. I must tell you everything.” 

He stood before his father in his nightgown, 
trembling, frightened, his nerves wrought up to 
the highest pitch. “ I must, I must ! ” he ex- 
claimed. “I’m afraid to go to sleep without 
Frank till I ’ve told every word.” 

He hurried the words out as fast as he could 
speak. The tears were streaming down his 
274 


Philip’s Repentance 275 

cheeks and his hands were clenched. Mrs. Archer 
now appeared in the doorway looking anxious 
and excited. 

“ Francis,” she said, “ I cannot prevail upon the 
child to go to bed till he has seen you. He is 
wild with fright.” 

Mr. Sinclair had already risen, and now he 
would have lifted Philip in his arms tenderly and 
soothingly ; but Philip exclaimed, 

‘‘ Ho, father, you 11 never love me any more 
when I’ve told you. But I must do it. Oh, 
father, you ’ve thought Frank killed the horse, 
and it was n’t Frank at all. I killed it. And I 
lied when I said I did n’t touch the gun. I went 
to your room and got it, and the shells, too, and 
Tom and Ralph and I played with it up there 
above the garden, and it was in my hands when 
it went off. I lied, lied, lied ! And I let my 
brother Frank be whipped because I ’m a coward 
and can’t bear to be hurt. And it is n’t the first 
time, either. He ’s always been punished for me. 
I ’ve lied out of things because I could n’t stand 
it to be whipped, and many a time he ’s stood it 
for me. He never was bad in his life, but you 
all thought so, and I let you, because I liked to 
have you all praise me and say what a nice boy I 
was. And now you know what a nice boy I am ! 
Oh, my brother ’s gone, and I never knew I cared 
anything about him till now ! He ’s thrown away 
his life for me, and I do n’t deserve it. He was 


A Misunderstood Hero 


276 

always the brave one, and I was the coward, 
though nobody knew it. I just hated myself be- 
cause I could n’t be brave. I wanted to be, but 
I couldn’t, and so I ’ve always pretended to 
everybody that I was. 

“ And when I ’ve told those big stories about 
the wonderful things I ’ve done, there has n’t 
been a word of truth in them, father. You and 
Aunt Margaret have been pleased with me and 
praised me when I did n’t deserve it at all. 
When I told you I killed the snake that was go- 
ing to bite Johnny Todd, I lied ; it was Frank 
who killed it. And when I told you I went out 
on the log and saved Laddie, it was my own 
brave brother Frank who did it, when not an- 
other one of us boys dared do it. Lots of times 
at home, when I ’ve told you of things I ’ve done, 
I have n’t done ’em at all. It ’s been Frank or 
some other boy. I ’ve said it just because I liked 
to see how pleased you all were and because I 
wished I dared do such things, and so I pretended 
I did. Frank’s borne everything for me, and 
kept me from being afraid at night, too, when 
nobody else in the world has known how it scares 
me to be in the dark, just like a girl. I never 
meant to tell anybody. He and I meant to fight 
it out together. But now he ’s gone, and I never 
can live without him.” 

Here Philip burst into a storm of sobs, and 
Mrs. Archer, who had been trying to interrupt 


Philip’s Repentance 277 

the torrent of words, now said anxiously and im- 
ploringly : 

“ Francis, stop him ! The child is fairly insane 
with grief and nervousness. It is dreadful to 
have him under such a delusion. Of course he 
never killed the horse, and he has never done any 
of those things. Try to get him to come to 
bed ” 

“ Yes, I did kill the horse, too. Aunt Margaret,” 
broke in Philip, ‘‘ and 1 11 tell you exactly how 
it was. We did start to go to the hotel that day 
with Tom, just as you saw us, and he had his 
kite, flying it ; but on the way up the kite came 
down in the woods on Old Bald Top, and we had 
to go over there after it. It landed in some 
bushes in that ravine there, and Tom had to jump 
down and pull it out, and he got it all but part 
of the tail. 

“ Then we stayed round there a while, and 
somehow, we began to talk about guns. Tom 
wanted me to go up to your room and get your 
gun. I did n’t want to, and he said I was afraid 
to for fear I ’d be whipped, and that made me 
so mad that I went straight up there and got it, 
and some cartridges, too, that were on the table. 
I knew you were n’t there, for I ’d seen you go off 
with Madge, and I knew all the rest of the folks 
would be taking naps in their rooms then. So I 
went back with the gun to Tom and Ralph, and 
while we were playing with it, Frank came up 


278 A Misunderstood Hero 

the path, and he saw we had it. He came round 
to me and whispered to me to go and put it back, 
because he knew, and I knew, that you would n’t 
like it. But I wouldn’t, and said something 
hateful to him, and we went off down the hill 
away from him. 

“ Then Tom loaded it, and he wanted to shoot 
at a target he had set up, but I wanted to shoot 
first, and I snatched it away, and it went off. 
Then we saw the horse fall, down below us on 
the grass. We dropped the gun, and we didn’t 
know what to do, but just as quick as lightning 
Tom said, ‘Come with me,’ and he ran a few 
steps to the ravine, and we after him. He got 
down and pulled us down, and we crept under the 
brush and did n’t dare to stir. And in a minute 
we heard the folks come. We heard all they 
said. We heard you ask Frank who did it, 
and Frank said he did n’t know and he did n’t 
want to know. And so he did n’t really know, 
but he thought it must have been one of us, and 
he was afraid it was me, and he did n’t want to 
tell on me. Oh, it ’s all true. Aunt Margaret, and 
I ’m not crazy. I ’m telling the truth for once in 
my life” 

“ Philip,” exclaimed his father, “ do you want 
to break my heart ? Can this be you ? ” 

“ Yes, father, I ’m Philip,” said the boy, weep- 
ing bitterly. 

“ Brother, tell him to come with me,” implored 


Philip’s Repentance 279 

Mrs. Archer. “ He is beside himself and does not 
know what he says.” 

How, my friends, what can you think of me, 
that I stood at the bottom of the steps in the 
shadow and heard all this ? Of course the thing 
I ought to have done was to ascend the steps, 
and, looking neither to the right nor the left, go 
quickly to my room, without hearing a word 
more than I was obliged to hear on my way. 
But there is this excuse for me, that I was at first 
so startled by Philip’s appearance in the doorway 
and his wild movements, that my steps were ar- 
rested in spite of myself. And as the fiery words 
rushed from his lips, my astonishment, when I 
took in their meaning, was so great that I was 
still further paralyzed for the time being. It 
was natural that I should listen with devouring 
interest to what the child was saying of Frank 
whom I had so dearly loved ; but now that he had 
come to a pause I felt that I must no longer 
linger. 

Therefore, I quietly and quickly went up the 
steps and tried to cross the floor of the porch. 
But Philip saw me. 

“ There is Miss Agatha,” he said, running to 
me and catching hold of my skirt. “ She knows 
about the snake, for she saw Frank kill it that 
day, and heard me say I did it. I hated her for 
it then, but I do n’t now. It ’s me that everybody 
will hate now.” 


28 o 


A Misunderstood Hero 


“ Francis, if you will not take the child to bed 
I cannot help it. I shall remain here no longer,” 
said Mrs. Archer; and she turned away and 
walked into the house. 

“ I can do nothing now,” said poor Mr. Sin- 
clair, spreading his hands helplessly. He spoke 
brokenly, and his face was haggard and drawn. 
“ I must be by myself,” he said. “ Miss Agatha, 
will you care for him a little while ? I will come 
later.” 

He started down the steps and disappeared 
round the house, leaving Philip weeping by my 
side. 

I turned and took the boy into my arms and 
held him close. 

“ Philip,” I said, trembling, “ let me tell you 
something. Now I love you. You have some- 
times thought I did not care for you as the oth- 
ers did. But now I do. And do you know why, 
my dear ? It is because now you are the Philip 
I have wanted you to be. Now you are Philip, 
noble and true. You have torn away all that 
false pride, all that wretched tangle of falsehood 
that I hated to see about you, and here instead is 
the real Philip as you were meant to be, honest, 
truthful, brave; because it was brave to stand 
before your father and confess to him what you 
did just now. Though my heart ached for you 
in your trouble, which is mine as well as yours, 
yet I was proud, proud to see how all the wicked 


Philip’s Repentance 281 

deceit and hateful pride were trampled down, 
how your own better nature had triumphed at 
last. Come, dear, come with me to your own 
room, and let us talk it over together, and I will 
try to comfort you.” 

The child, still weeping and trembling with 
excitement, lifted his head from my shoulder 
where I had placed it and said sadly : 

“But father. Miss Agatha. My father will 
will never forgive me. He will never even speak 
to me again.” 

“ Yes, yes, indeed, my child, he will. And he 
will love you, too. Do now just as you know he 
would have you do. Presently he will come 
back. Let him find you in your bed, and I will 
sit beside you there. You shall tell me what is in 
your heart, and I will help you all I can.” 

Then he let me lead him to his room, and I sat 
by his bedside while he held my hand between 
both his own hot, feverish palms, as if he feared 
I might escape. 

“ Oh, stay with me, good Miss Agatha,” he 
implored. “ I can’t stay alone without Frank. 
Oh, where is my brother now ? ” 

Then he burst into such wild sobs again that it 
was long before I could soothe him or even make 
him listen to the words of comfort I tried to pour 
into his ear. 

But gradually he grew more quiet, and though 
I let him talk — for his flushed face and bright. 


282 A Misunderstood Hero 

startled eyes told plainly how far sleep was 
from his pillow — he spoke less excitedly, and 
after a little time became calmer, though still a 
trembling sob, now and then, showed the nervous 
strain under which the poor boy labored. 

“O Miss Agatha,” he said, “I never knew 
how much I cared for Frank till now that I ’ve 
lost him. I do n’t think I knew I cared about 
him at all. I always thought of him as just 
Frank; Frank who would be on hand to do 
things for me when I wanted ’em done, and to 
help me learn my pieces and that sort of thing, 
and to stay with me when I was afraid. Oh, he 
was always good to me and ready to do anything 
in the world for me ! But I never was good to 
him, never. I never tried to help him, and I 
did n’t care what became of him if only I had a 
good time myself. Time and again when Aunt 
Margaret scolded him I knew he did n’t deserve 
it, but I never said a word to help him. All I 
cared for was just to keep straight with every- 
body myself. To think of the times I ’ve let him 
be whipped instead of me ! But this horse busi- 
ness was the worst of anything. There was 
never anything so bad as that. I have felt like 
sinking into the ground about it all along. How 
could I let my brother be punished for that I 
Yet it seemed as if I could n’t tell anybody about 
it, and I knew Frank wouldn’t. Kalph Todd 
was at me all the time to tell, for he ’s just hated 


Philip’s Repentance 283 

me ever since it happened. He was so ashamed 
to let Frank bear it all. I told Ralph he 
could n’t be so mean as to break his promise 
to me to keep still about it, and he did n’t break 
it, but he ’s just despised me for not telling 
and not a bit more than I have despised my- 
self. I longed to tell, but somehow I could n’t. 
It seemed too dreadful. But I could let Frank 
bear it all. 

“ And now he ’s gone ! I never can tell him 
now how I feel about it all. I can’t tell him 
that there never was any one I loved as I did him, 
though I did n’t know it till now. What can I 
do without him? Oh, if he could only come 
back I ’d show him what a different brother I ’d 
be!” 

Thus the poor child rambled on. I tried to 
comfort him and to soothe his quivering nerves. 
Some time, when the right opportunity should 
come, I hoped to show the dear boy, as gently as 
I could, some of the sad mistakes of his past, and 
with tender words of counsel point the way to a 
better and happier future, but that time was not 
now. Kow my one thought was to quiet him so 
that sleep might calm the overexcited brain. 
Gradually I succeeded. After a while nature 
asserted her rights, and I could see the eyelids 
close slowly, growing heavier as each moment 
passed on. 

We were quiet now, though he still held my 


A Misunderstood Hero 


284 

hand tightly clasped in his. Just as I thought 
he was at last asleep, his father came quietly to 
the door and looked in on us. Philip started up. 

“ Father, is it you ? ” he cried wildly. 

Mr. Sinclair hastened to his side. “ Yes, my 
boy,’^ he said, gently. 

His face had changed in those brief hours. He 
looked grief-stricken and as if years had passed 
over his head since I had last seen him. But he 
tried to smile upon the anxious face of his boy, 
as he bent to let Philip clasp him about the neck. 
He drew the trembling boy into his arms. 

“ You are all the son I have now, Philip,” he 
said brokenly. ‘^My other son, whom I never 
knew till now ” 

Here he hid his face in Philip’s neck, and I 
heard the strong man sob. 

“ O father, do n’t feel so ! Forgive me I ” cried 
Philip. 

“ I do, I do forgive you, Philip,” said his 
father, lifting his head. ‘‘ But for myself, can 
I ever forgive myself ? — blind, blind that I have 
been ! ” Then he kissed his son and hastily left 
the room. 

I still sat on in my old place, trying to soothe 
poor Philip, who had been thoroughly roused by 
his father’s visit. Finally he dropped into an 
uneasy sleep. But even then I could not leave 
him, for his hand still held mine, and with every 
movement I made his clasp would tighten. 


Philip’s Repentance 285 

Twice, as I sat there, his aunt appeared in the 
doorway, but when she saw me she silently 
turned away. 

I knew that she must resent my presence at 
such a time and that she must think I had rudely 
thrust myself into family matters with which I 
could have no possible concern, and this knowl- 
edge did not tend to allay the discomfort and 
embarrassment, to say nothing of the grief, in 
which I passed the long hours of the night at 
Philip’s bedside. 


CHAPTEE XYI 


HOW LADDIE SAVED A PRECIOUS LIFE 

It was not until a few, faint gleams of dawning 
light from over the mountain’s top stole into the 
bedroom window, that I found myself at liberty 
to leave my little patient. He had fallen now 
into a quiet, dreamless slumber, in which his 
troubles were for the time forgotten. His hands, 
clasped upon his breast, rose and fell gently with 
his soft, regular breathing, and the cool, moist 
forehead, the faint flush on his cheek, showed 
that nature had taken him into her own hands 
at last, and was soothing him in her own health- 
ful way. 

There was no longer any need to fear the ill- 
ness from feverish excitement which I had 
dreaded. Hor was there any danger of his be- 
ing frightened by awaking in the dark, for it 
would soon be broad daylight. I knew that no 
medicine could do for Philip what that soft, 
dewy slumber, hushing all the painful thoughts 
and soothing all the quivering nerves, was doing 
now. Therefore with one last glance at the 
boy’s face, more beautiful in his quiet sleep than 
I had ever seen it, I stole gently out of the room 
and hastened to my own chamber. 

286 


How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 287 

But not to sleep ! For my own overwrought 
nerves there could be no such rest at present. I 
felt the necessity of action of some sort. Hastily 
drawing aside the curtain I looked from my open 
window out upon the quiet lawn. 

The grim mountains stood all about it, still 
clothed in their night shadows, but in the east I 
could see the dawn brightening, and even as I 
gazed, the somber trees took on the faintest tints 
of their daylight colors, the light broadened, a 
cloud just tipped with softest rose color appeared 
above Mount Eyre’s crest, and then in a moment 
I became aware that a new day had begun. 

“ I will go out to meet the rising sun,” I said 
to myself, and putting on hat and cape, stole 
softly down the stairs and out of the door. 

It was still very early. Ko sign of life inside 
the house or out of it was visible, as I hastened 
across the lawn. Whether the rest of the house- 
hold had forgotten grief in slumber, I could not 
tell ; but for me there seemed no solace save in 
active movement. Therefore I hastened on with 
rapid, though aimless, steps which led me up the 
path I had so often trod, the path through the 
garden and up the gentle slope of Old Bald Top. 

I meant to hurry on to see the sun rise from a 
certain lofty height where once, together, Frank 
and I had watched the sight, but on the way I 
came to the place where, a little while before, the 
accident had happened which had brought so 


288 


A Misunderstood Hero 


much grief and suffering to my poor, lost Frank. 
I paused upon the very spot where the boys had 
stood when the fatal shot had been fired, and 
went over again in my mind the sad details of 
Philip’s story to his father the night before. 
Then I wandered along the edge of the narrow 
gorge where he had said they plunged down to 
hide from their pursuers. 

Now that I knew the story, I could see that it 
had been possible for them to do so, though be- 
fore it had seemed that no one could have ven- 
tured into such a maze of tangled brier and 
brush. I even thought I could detect the spot 
where they had rushed down and carried stones 
and earth with them in their mad haste. Yes, 
and there, still clinging to the bushes, midway 
across the gorge, was the bit of string and the 
paper which had helped to form the kite’s tail. 

It was all as Philip had said. Oh, if it could 
only have been said before ! If only my little 
lad need not have had all that weight of un- 
merited blame to bear ! But with what un- 
flinching, silent bravery he had borne it ! My 
eyes were blinded by heavy tears as I turned to 
walk along the border of the ravine on my up- 
ward journey. 

Suddenly I was startled by a familiar sound. 
Could it be possible that that was Laddie’s bark 
which I heard, sharp and quick, and coming 
nearer and nearer? Was that Laddie, who had 


How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 289 

been left with Frank, that I saw rushing down 
the sloping side of the gorge to meet me ? 

Indeed, it was Laddie. I stopped short in the 
path, trembling so that I could scarcely stand, 
and the dog came and leaped upon me with 
short, quick yelps of joy or anguish, I could not 
tell which. His eyes looked into mine as if im- 
ploring me to understand and help him. 

“ Oh, what is it, Laddie ? ” I found myself say- 
ing, as if he had been human. 

Suddenly he seized my skirt in his teeth and 
tried to draw me forward, then ran on ahead a 
little way, flying back with the same fierce, fran- 
tic yelps and looking into my face with the old 
entreaty. 

‘‘ Oh, it is Frank ! ” I cried, as all at once the 
thought flashed upon me what Laddie wanted. 
“ Frank ! Frank ! ” I cried, and started along 
the path. 

Again Laddie barked and led the way, looking 
back to see if I understood. He plunged down 
into that very ravine among all the brush, at a 
point a few rods higher than where I had been 
standing. 

I could not follow him, but stood trembling on 
the bank, in a maze of anxiety. Up he came again 
and took hold of my skirt to drag me down. 

“ O Laddie,” I cried, “ try to understand me. 
I cannot go. But let us hurry home and get the 
others. They will go and find dear Frank.” 


290 


A Misunderstood Hero 


If I had never thought before that dogs know 
what we say to them I shall always feel sure of it 
hereafter; for Laddie, with just a moment’s pause 
for thought, suddenly started down the hill for 
home, never looking behind him but yelping 
for me to follow, all eagerness to reach the 
house. 

How we got over the ground I never knew. 
The next thing I was conscious of was that I 
stood before Mr. Sinclair’s window, with Laddie 
barking wildly by my side. I was shouting with 
all my might. 

“ Come, everybody ! Here is Laddie ! He 
wants us to go to Frank. Oh, come ! ” 

A dozen sashes flew up, but I only paid heed 
to one. “ Come, Mr. Sinclair,” I said, as his head 
appeared at the window. “ See, here is Laddie. 
Oh, come to Frank ! Laddie will take us.” 

Laddie fairly howled in his anxiety to make 
himself heard. It seemed as if the little fellow 
knew all that I said and meant to emphasize 
every word of it. 

In the briefest possible time Mr. Sinclair, then 
John Dale and a dozen black people stood about 
us, with Laddie leaping among them and rushing 
ahead to lead the way. 

Swiftly they followed up the hill. Laddie look- 
ing back again and again, still yelping with ex- 
citement. I went too. What else could I do ? 
And behind me came the rest of the rudely 


How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 291 

awakened household, as one after another they 
hurried forth from their chambers. 

When we reached the spot where Laddie had 
first appeared, there was no sign of anybody 
near, but we could see where the little crowd of 
anxious men had torn through the tangled brush 
of the ravine as if it had been the merest thistle- 
down in their pathway, so eagerly and unthink- 
ingly had they sped through it on their way after 
Laddie. 

How long we anxious women stood grouped 
together in that lonely spot I cannot tell. It 
seemed to us like hours. “ Oh, if Laddie meant 
anything, why do n’t they come ?” cried Madge, 
trembling between hope and dread. “ Oh, what 
did Laddie mean ? ” 

She started up the hill, crying that she must 
do something, that she must try to find them, and 
left us still standing on the edge of the ravine, 
with our eyes strained on the bend where the 
men had disappeared from our view. 

It could not have been long after that when 
one of us exclaimed, “ Oh, there is Madge ! Look ! 
She is beckoning to us.” 

What had she discovered ? Could it be that 
they were coming at last ? 

We climbed the path as quickly as we could, 
and Madge came down part way to meet us. 

Oh,” she said, ‘‘ I saw them. They were 
coming along through the gorge very slowly, 


292 


A Misunderstood Hero 


and, oh, it seemed to me they were carrying 
something among them. Can it be that it was 
Frank ? ” she asked, in an awed tone. Her face 
was pale, and she trembled. “ Then I lost them,” 
she went on. “ I think they must have climbed 
up on the bank among the trees. But I heard 
Laddie bark. Oh, listen ! I hear him again.” 

Yes, we all heard him now. The sound came 
nearer. Surely they must be coming. Laddie’s 
quick, excited yelps fell sharper on our ears. 
What did they foretell ? Could it be that Frank 
was found ? 

We stood in breathless waiting. The sound 
grew louder, and presently Laddie sprang through 
the bushes into the path above us. He rushed 
down to us frantically, leaping upon one and 
another, as if in his joy he were quite beside 
himself. Then he flew back again up the hill, 
and we followed quickly. 

Just as we reached a steep rise we saw the 
men coming. They were creeping slowly and 
carefully along. In the center of the group, 
three or four, with bent heads and outstretched 
arms, were bearing a limp little form, about 
which Laddie capered joyously. But the little 
form was motionless. There was no sign of life 
about the limbs, and the white face, as it came 
nearer, was still. It was Frank, indeed, but how 
had he come back to us ? I fell into a sudden 
trembling and sank by the wayside. I had not 



Watching the little procession approach 




How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 293 

known before how high my hopes had been 
raised by Laddie’s strange return and stranger 
behavior. 

But all at once I started up again, for I heard 
Mr. Sinclair’s voice ringing out firm and clear. 
There was an exultant thrill in it which I can 
never forget. 

“ He is found ! ” he cried, “ my son is found ! 
And he lives ! Thank God, he lives ! ” 

Ah, was not that cry enough to give me back 
my strength ? In a moment I stood beside my 
dear boy’s side. I saw that though the face was 
white as death he still breathed, and now, as 
we gathered about him, he moved slightly and 
moaned. 

“We must not stop, we must get him home,” 
cried Mr. Sinclair, still in those ringing tones. 

“ Oh, father, he looks so white,” exclaimed 
Madge, appalled. “ Is it death ? ” 

“ Ho,” declared her father, “ he will live. The 
doctor will soon be here. He is only in a stupor. 
He must live ; I cannot lose him now.” 

We carried our boy down the mountainside 
and into the house, on up the stairs, and would 
have laid him on his own bed beside his sleeping 
brother had not his father exclaimed : 

“ To my own room. Take him there. I must 
have him with me.” 

Then, when we had placed the small, uncon- 
scious form on the bed, we flew, one for this 


294 A Misunderstood Hero 

restorative, and one for that. One fell to 
rubbing the helpless limbs, another fanned the 
face which lay like marble upon the pillow, while 
all looked and longed for the first faint signs of 
returning consciousness. 

How anxiously we waited for the doctor’s 
coming, and prayed that it might not be long 
delayed ! With what a sigh of relief did we 
hear the faint patter of a horse’s hoofs, far down 
the road, drawing nearer and nearer, till finally 
a carriage stopped at the door, and the doctor 
appeared in our midst. 

It must have been an hour later when, as I 
stood at a little distance behind the others, I saw 
a quiver pass over Frank’s pale lips. Then the 
gray eyes slowly opened, opened to look into his 
father’s anxious face bending over him. The 
child gazed upward at first unknowingly, then 
more consciously, until at last, while wonder 
grew in his own eyes, he said low, as if 
amazed : 

“ Father, is it you ? ” Then in an awed, yet 
happy tone, as he looked into his father’s loving 
eyes, he asked : 

‘‘ Is it heaven ? Are we in heaven, father, you 
and I?” and tried to put his weak arms about his 
father’s neck. 

The father gave a low sob, as he placed them 
there. “ My son ! my son ! ” he cried, and for the 
moment said no more. 


How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 295 

“ O father ! ” sighed Frank, happily. Then 
again, “ Is it heaven ? ” he asked. 

“ Hot yet, my child,^’ answered his father, try- 
ing to smile. “ I have not lost you yet.” And 
again he drew that sobbing breath. 

Frank’s half-awakened senses became more 
alert. Suddenly he seemed to remember what 
had happened. “ Oh,” he exclaimed, ‘‘ I thought 
I had died in that dreadful place ! Did I get 
through it, then ? Where is Laddie ? Oh, where 
is Laddie ? ” he cried, in a frightened tone. 

Quickly from the outskirts of the little circle 
came a short, emphatic bark, which told where 
Laddie was, asking, nay, demanding a passage- 
way to the bed where his loving little master 
lay. With an eager leap he landed at Frank’s 
side, and would have covered his face with kisses, 
had not the kind doctor said, “ Hot yet,” and 
quietly removed him, after Frank’s sigh of joy 
that Laddie was safe. 

He seemed to come to himself more and more. 
“ I did n’t die, then ? ” he said, wonderingly. He 
glanced at his father timidly and in a puzzled 
fashion, as if unable to understand his changed 
manner. Then he looked about him at the faces 
of the others, at the strange doctor, at Madge and 
his Aunt Margaret. Suddenly he put his hand 
over his eyes and tried to turn away his head 
from them all. 

“ Oh, do n’t ! ” he cried, bursting into tears. 


A Misunderstood Hero 


296 

“Please go away, everybody. Oh, where is my 
friend ? I want Miss Agatha.” 

Instantly the^^ all made way for me, and I 
passed between them and placed my arms about 
him. Silently, and with tears, I thanked our 
Father in heaven that the child of my heart lay 
there safe in my old arms, my trembling lips 
pressed close to his pale cheek. 

“ My little lad,” was all I could say, but he 
heard and kissed me back. 

“ Yes,” he said, with a happy sigh, “ you are 
glad. Miss Agatha, that I did n’t die in that 
horrible place under the ground. Oh, I want to 
tell you about it, only my head aches so, and I 
feel weak and queer all over.” 

“Better not, now, my boy. Wait till to- 
morrow,” said the doctor, gravely. Then he 
gave him some medicine, bade him turn over and 
try not to think of anything, but just to go to 
sleep. Turning to Mr. Sinclair, he said that the 
child must be left in absolute rest and quietness 
or he could not answer for the consequences. 
So, one by one, we turned away and left the dear 
boy with only his father and the doctor seated 
in a dim corner of the darkened room, where 
their presence might not disturb the wearied 
child, who had obediently closed his eyes and 
tried to sleep at the doctor’s command. 

Did any of us eat any breakfast that day ? I 
am sure I cannot tell, and I doubt if one of the 


How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 297 

anxious yet happy group gathered upon the 
porch that bright September morning has now 
the slightest remembrance of anything that tran- 
spired at that eventful time beyond the precincts 
of Frank’s chamber. For myself, I do recall that 
as soon as I could think of anything beside my 
joy and thankfulness that Frank had been thus 
strangely saved from a terrible death, my one 
thought was for Philip. 

Leaving the other members of the household 
still talking in hushed tones over the marvelous 
escape and wondering how it could have been 
accomplished, I went quickly up the stairs to 
Philip’s room. 

He was sleeping when I entered, but my 
coming, gentle as I had intended it to be, must 
have disturbed his slumber. He moved uneasily, 
threw his arm up over his head, sighed and then 
opened his eyes and saw me standing beside him. 

He looked at me unthinkingly for a moment, 
and then the remembrance of all the dreadful 
events of the day before sprang suddenly into his 
mind. 

“O Miss Agatha!” he cried out, frightened 
and trembling. But I drew him down on his 
pillow. 

“ Listen, my dear,” I said. “ Be still a minute. 
O Philip,” I cried, “ look at me ! Do you not see 
from my face what has happened ? ” I smiled as 
brightly as I could upon him. 


A Misunderstood Hero 


298 

He looked at me, startled. ‘‘ What is it, Miss 
Agatha ? What can it be ? ” he exclaimed, start- 
ing up in bed. Then beginning to tremble again, 
“ Miss Agatha, it can’t be — oh, is it Frank, Miss 
Agatha ? ” 

I clasped him in my arms. “ Philip,” I cried, 
“ think of what you said last night. ‘ If only my 
brother Frank could come back to me, I would 
show him what a good brother I would be.’ 
O Philip, never forget those words; for, my 
dear, he has come back! God has given you 
back your brother.” 

For a moment the boy sat up in his bed staring 
at me, as if unable to grasp my words, then he 
flung his arms about me and cried out, ‘‘Miss 
Agatha, Miss Agatha, is he alive ? My brother 
Frank ? Is he alive ? ” 

He fell back and flung his face into his pillow, 
while his whole frame shook with heavy sobs. 
But it was for joy he cried, and the crying did 
him no hurt. 

Suddenly he sprang up, saying that he must 
go to Frank. But I would not let him then, and 
said, 

“We must wait a little, dear. Frank cannot 
see you now. Presently, when he is better, you 
shall go to him and put your arms around him and 
tell him how glad you are that he is safe. And 
if you whisper to him how much you love him 
and how from this time on you mean to show 


How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 299 

what a good brother you can be, I know Frank’s 
own heart will be filled with joy and thankful- 
ness, and you will have done more to make him 
well than all the doctor’s medicine can do.” 

“ So I will. Miss Agatha,” declared Philip, 
with tears running down his cheeks. “ For, oh, 
I do mean it. From this day on he shall see. 
Miss Agatha, I am going to try to be such a 
different boy after this; different in every way. 
If only father will forgive me ! Do you think 
he will ? I know Frank will,” he said, with an 
eager thrill in his voice ; “ he ’s always so good.” 

“ Yes, indeed, they ’ll both forgive you, Philip, 
and love you, too. So will we all. How could 
we help it, my dear boy, when you are going to 
be good and truthful, honest and brave, from this 
day forward ? And Philip,” I whispered, “ do n’t 
forget that there is One other, whom you should 
ask to forgive you, too. When you are all alone 
by yourself, tell Him all that is in your heart, 
just what you want to do. Ask Him to help you 
and make you strong to help yourself. I know 
He will, Philip.” 

“ I will, I will ! ” cried Philip. He threw his 
arms around me and hid his face on my shoulder. 
“ I mean to do it,” he said ; “ and I mean to tell 
Him I am glad he gave me back my brother.” 

I saw that the boy was deeply touched, and as I 
sat by his bedside quietly caressing him and try- 
ing to calm his excited nerves, I was hoping 


300 


A Misunderstood Hero 


and praying that all this time of trouble might 
work to some good purpose. Surely, if by means 
of this day and night of suffering the two broth- 
ers might be brought into happier and more 
loving relations ; if Philip might be led to over- 
come his faults ; to grow into the noble and beau- 
tiful character we had only to look upon his 
earnest, lovely young face to feel that he ought 
to become ; if, more than all, the children’s father 
could be brought to see his own grave faults in 
his treatment of his sons, who could wish the 
pain blotted out ? 

As for Philip, I felt that he had all at once 
become very dear to me. The hours which we 
had just passed together had broken down the 
barrier between us. All my old displeasure and 
misliking were gone. He had found his way to 
my heart. He could never have Frank’s own 
place there, but I felt that there was room for 
both. I thought, too, that Philip was growing 
to love me also, and I did not believe that he 
would ever again slyly make fun of my old- 
fashioned ways, or say, as he had once done, ‘‘ I 
hate you, you old Miss Agatha.” 

I sat beside him for an hour or more while we 
talked about many things. I told him how I 
had left him in the early dawn, to wander out 
upon the mountain, how Laddie had so strangely 
come to meet me, and by means of his quick 
intelligence and loving anxiety for his young 


How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 301 

master, had led us to search for Frank ; how the 
men had fought their way through the brush and 
brambles of the old ravine, following after 
Laddie as well as they could, till they had 
come to a spot where a quantity of stone and 
rubbish had been thrown out of the mouth of an 
old shaft from the mine. This shaft, or level, as 
I believe they called it, although it was not 
level, but descended at a gentle slope, was at 
quite a distance from the place where the boys 
had gone down, and in fact had been so long un- 
used that its very existence was almost forgotten. 
The entrance was concealed by bushes and vines 
which overhung it, but when Laddie had boldly 
plunged in over the mass of “ dump ” and 
through the thickest of the brush, and the men, 
following on, had parted the branches and en- 
tered, one after another, they recognized at once 
that they were in just such a horizontal shaft as 
the one which the boys had amused themselves 
by exploring the day before. 

It was so dark within the entrance that they 
could discern nothing until they had hastily cut 
away the branches which grew about the mouth. 
Then they could see to follow Laddie, who ran 
leaping and barking before them for several 
rods. 

Soon they came to a place where a great mass 
of stone obstructed the way. Laddie clambered 
over this, though with much difficulty, and made 


A Misunderstood Hero 


302 

his way to a point where he squeezed himself 
through between the top of the heap of stones 
and the roof of the shaft. Here the men had 
halted in dismay. It seemed impossible to go on, 
but Laddie, who discovered that they were not 
following him, came back through the narrow 
opening and urged and implored them to come, 
rushing over the stones to them, barking, whining, 
licking their feet, begging them by every means 
in his power to follow. 

Then the men fell to with a right good will, 
and began dislodging the stones. One after 
another they threw down those which they 
could lift, and pushed at the others till they were 
loosened from their hold. In this manner they 
had made a passageway wide enough to crawl 
through on hands and knees, and passing com- 
pletely over the obstruction found themselves 
once more in the open shaft. Here at the foot 
of the heap of stones lay Frank, white and still 
as if in death. 

At the first moment they had alj believed him 
dead, but Mr. Sinclair, with a sharp cry, had 
pressed forward, and flinging himself down be- 
side the child, had bent his ear to Frank’s chest 
to listen for the beating of his heart. 

“ He lives ! Thank God ! ” he cried, the next 
moment. “ Let us hurry to the air and light.” 

The strong men, with willing hands and feet, 
had worked to make the passage yet wider, that 


How Laddie Saved a Precious Life 303 

the unconscious child might be safely borne with- 
out injury from his dark prison vault to the life- 
giving air and sunlight above. 

I told Philip how I had stood with Madge and 
the others upon the mountainside and had 
watched the little procession approach ; how 
my heart had leaped in my bosom for joy when 
I saw that Frank was found, only to sink with 
dread as they drew nearer and I gazed upon the 
white, deathlike face and the limp hand that 
hung helplessly at his side. 

“ But he was not dead,” I cried. “ He is alive 
and safe and has spoken to us all. Please God, 
all will soon be well.” 

“Oh, I hope so,” said Philip. After a little 
pause he continued, “What a strange place to 
find him in, so far from the mine! How could 
he have got there in that terrible, dark place ? 
Oh, how he must have felt to be in such a place 
as that ! ” he exclaimed with a shudder. 

“ That is the mystery,” I answered, “ and 
we can none of us solve it. But Frank will 
tell us when he is able. We must wait till 
then.” 

“ To think of how he must have felt to be 
there. Miss Agatha ! It seems so horrible. But 
Frank could stand it better than any one else, be- 
cause he is so brave.” He spoke with a thrill in 
his voice, which showed that he was proud of his 
brother. 


A Misunderstood Hero 


304 

“ Let us go now, Miss Agatha,” he begged. “ I 
can’t wait any longer.” 

“ Yes, my dear. Get up and dress quickly. 
Come to my room when you are ready, and we 
will see if they will let us go to Frank.” 

But when we went together to the bedroom 
door, it opened hurriedly and Mr. Sinclair came 
out. 

“ O father 1 ” cried Philip, with all his old im- 
petuosity. But suddenly he thought of what 
had passed between his father and himself the 
night before. He faltered, hung back and 
dropped his head. “O father,” he said again 
sadly, “ father, won’t you forgive me ? ” 

Mr. Sinclair stooped down, lifted the boy in 
his arms and kissed him silently. 

“Yes, my son,” he said simply. 

“ Father, may I see Frank ? I want to speak 
to him.” 

“Yes, Philip, you may see him,” he replied, 
and I saw that he was deeply agitated, “but 
he cannot speak to you, my son. He is very, 
very ill.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


FRANK’S ILLNESS 

How suddenly our new-found hopes were fled 
and all our joy turned to grief and fear by these 
terrible tidings ! Frank was very ill, wildly de- 
lirious with fever and in the gravest danger. 
How mistaken we had been but one short hour 
before when we had thought he had only to rest 
and recover his strength, to become his own self 
again ! Could it be that we must lose him after 
all? 

But I would not believe this. When I thought 
of how he had lived through all the terrors of 
that dreadful mine, it seemed to me that the kind 
Father of all meant to spare him to us now. I 
was sure of it, though I could scarcely have told 
why I felt so positive. Through all the long, 
anxious days which followed, when we saw the 
fever mount higher and higher and listened to the 
wild rumblings of the disordered brain, I never 
lost that faith. Even when the doctor himself 
seemed to lose all hope, I still believed that Frank 
would live. 

And live he did ; but not until after weeks of 
pain and suffering on his part and of deep anxiety 

305 


A Misunderstood Hero 


306 

on ours. What long, sad hours those were when 
his father and I sat silently watching on either 
side of his bed! Not that the others were far 
away; but somehow, even in his deepest delirium, 
when he knew nothing of what went on around 
him, Frank seemed to cling to his father and me, 
to be restless and in distress if his Aunt Margaret, 
or even Madge, sat beside him. His aunt meant 
to be kind, and would have done anything in her 
power for his comfort, but even in his wildest 
wanderings the habits of his whole life were 
strong upon him, and he could not change them 
if he would. 

So it came about that his father, to whose 
tender touch and gentle voice he always re- 
sponded though he could not know him, and I 
myself, with whom in his rambling way he held 
long conversations not knowing what he said, 
and holding my hand the while, it came about, I 
say, that we two were oftenest with him. 

Many a time as we sat and listened, I thought 
how hard it must be for the father to hear this 
talk, incoherent as it was. Sometimes the poor 
boy would start up in his bed crying, 

“ Father, do n’t ! Do n’t punish me again ! 
Oh, I did n’t shoot the horse ! . . . I told 

them,” he would mutter, ‘‘ that I did n’t know 
who shot the horse and I didn’t want to know, 
and I didn’t really and truly know, because I 
didn’t see it, but, oh, I thought it was Philip! 


Frank’s Illness 


307 


. . . No, Miss Agatha,” he would go on, “ 1 
can’t stop with you. No, no. You ’d be sure to 
find out who it was, and I will not tell of my 
brother. I will not, I will not ! ” 

Then again : “ O father, it hurts, but I ’d bear 

it all if you’d only look at me sometimes as 
you do at Philip. Do n’t be ashamed of me, 
father ! . . . Philip, you do n’t get that line 

right : ‘ Stormed at with shot and shell,’ not 

‘ stoned at.’ How silly that would be ! . . . 

There goes father, Laddie. He ’s got his arm 
around Phil’s shoulder. O Laddie, what would 
we give if he ’d walk that way with us ! But he 
never will, he never will. . . . What makes 

my head feel so queer, I wonder ? ” 

Thus he would ramble on, sometimes in a loud, 
clear voice so that any one might hear, and again 
with a confused murmur of which we could dis- 
tinguish no word. And the poor father heard it 
all and, as I well knew, pondered many things in 
his heart. 

Day by day, as he sat by Frank’s bedside, the 
past was being made clear to him. I could see 
with what shame and distress he reviewed his 
own part therein. More than once, as I leaned 
back in my dim corner, I beheld the strong man, 
forgetting my presence, cover his face with his 
hands and sob, as he listened to the pleadings of 
his child that he, even he, might receive a share 
of his father’s love. 


A Misunderstood Hero 


308 

“ Do n’t give Philip all,” Frank would say ; 
“ give me a little, father.” 

Then the father, with his eyes full of tears, 
would bend and kiss the boy’s flushed, uncon- 
scious face, longing to make him understand that 
the love had come at last, fearing that it might 
be too late. 

It was in these long hours beside our little suf- 
ferer’s bedside, that Mr. Sinclair and I became 
friends. As I learned to know him I saw more 
plainly how easily it had come about that poor 
Frank had been so completely misunderstood by 
the father who should have found his chief pride 
in a son of such noble traits. 

“ But I never knew him as he really is,” he de- 
clared, one day. “ From his infancy I have sup- 
posed him to be actually weak in intellect. I 
thought he could not learn like other children. 
It is true that several times since we have been 
here at Glen Els worth, I have observed a brighter 
expression on his face and have even seen him 
talking merrily with the other boys. I wondered 
what it could mean, and perhaps if the spright- 
liness had lasted I might have discovered the real 
Frank sooner, but after that affair of the horse, 
he fell back into his old, sullen manner again, and 
I concluded that the change I thought I had no- 
ticed must have been fancy. As for all this 
story-making of which you tell me and the help- 
ing of Philip with his lessons and so forth, I as- 


Frank’s Illness 


309 


sure you it has been entirely unknown to me. I 
never dreamed the boy was bright enough for 
that. 

“ The fact is, I am away from my home much 
of the time, and sometimes see my children only 
at long intervals. I fear I have never studied 
their characters so closely as I should have done. 
I have taken too much for granted. Philip and 
Madge, by their bright intelligence, have fed my 
pride and my love, while Frank, through his shy- 
ness and reserve has been totally unknown to me. 
Now that 1 understand him better I cannot tell 
how I could have been so blind, how I could have 
failed to find the child’s loving nature in spite of 
his outward manner. But I never did find it, 
and indeed knew him so little that I did not dream 
he could care for me as I now know he does.” 

When Mr. Sinclair opened his heart to me in 
this frank fashion, I felt that the opportunity for 
which I had sought so long had come. I could 
tell him how mistaken, in my estimation, the 
whole education of the children had been. If I 
spoke somewhat warmly of the share his sister 
had borne in that education, I hope it was in no 
spirit of malice. I felt that he ought to know 
how cruel and unjust the treatment of his aunt 
had been to Frank, and how full of peril to Philip 
also. I did not hesitate to speak my mind freely 
and plainly, and at the close of our conversation 
I could see that, though Mr. Sinclair said little, 


310 A Misunderstood Hero 

he was making the matter the subject of serious 
thought. 

Though my heart beat a little at my temerity, 
I felt glad that I had been able to say what I 
wished, and as I took my place again at Frank’s 
bedside and ministered to his wants, I hoped most 
earnestly that good might come of it. 

There came a day at last when we could say 
that the worst was over. The fever subsided ; a 
long, refreshing sleep fell upon the tired brain ; 
and when Frank waked it was to recognize his 
father bending over him. He was weak and ex- 
hausted, it is true, but in his right mind at last. 

I can never forget that first conscious look with 
which he gazed into his father’s eyes. A faint 
flush came to his wasted face and an expression 
of doubt and astonishment. “Father,” he said 
at length, tenderly and in his weak whisper, 
“ what is it ? ” But his father, for all answer, 
placed his arms about the boy and drew him to 
his breast. 

I turned away and fled from the room. It was 
not for me to look upon that first meeting be- 
tween the two. But, ah, how my heart was 
beating for joy, as I wandered away by myself, 
to think that at last Frank’s good time was come! 
At last all the weary longing and waiting were 
over and gone, and my little lad had found his 
place, his own warm, sheltered corner, in his 
father’s heart ! 


Frank’s Illness 


311 

How long they talked together or what they 
said I never knew. But when Mr. Sinclair came 
to me afterward, saying, “ The boy wants you. 
Miss Agatha,” there was a tender, happy look on 
his face which told me that all was well between 
the father and son. 

Then I went quickly to my boy’s room. What 
a happy little face, pale and wasted as it was, lay 
on the pillow there! What eager arms were 
raised to clasp my neck, and what a bright smile 
met my own ! 

“ O Miss Agatha,” said the child in his weak 
voice, trying to raise his head as I came up to 
him, “do you know about it? about my father 
and me. Miss Agatha?” in a hushed, happy 
whisper. “ He ’s my own father, now.” 

“ Yes, dear,” I whispered back, as I placed his 
head upon his pillow, “he is your own father 
now and you are his dear son. Everything is 
right at last. Your old friend is so glad for you 
both, my dear.” 

“ Yes, Miss Agatha,” he said, putting up his 
hand to pat my face affectionately. Then after 
a little pause, “ Oh, I ’m glad, glad it all hap- 
pened, though it seemed hard then ! 

“ Miss Agatha,” he went on, “ I want to tell 
you about that dreadful place I was in. I wanted 
to tell my father too, but he said to wait till I 
am stronger. But I shall soon be strong enough 
for anything now,” trying to speak out bravely, 


312 


A Misunderstood Hero 


though his voice sounded faint and uncertain, 
“ because I ’m so happy, you know, and that will 
make me well in no time.” 

It was some little time before Frank was well, 
for all his brave talk, but still it was astonishing 
how quickly he grew better. Indeed, within the 
next day or two he was strong enough to tell us 
what we had so much wished to know — how he 
had contrived to escape from the mine and find 
his way into the dark tunnel so far from the spot 
where the boys had left him, as they supposed, to 
die, on that dreadful day. 

“ I can’t tell you how hard it seemed to watch 
the bucket going up, up, and know I was left be- 
hind,” he said, as he lay comfortably on his pil- 
low with his hand clasped tightly in his father’s. 
“ Oh, when I think of it all, it does seem as if I 
could n’t be here in my bed, alive and safe and so 
happy ! ” He looked shyly and affectionately at 
his father, as he spoke the last words, as if to as- 
sure himself that it was no dream that he, him- 
self, the little outcast, was lying there sheltered 
and warmed by the tender affection of his be- 
loved father and of all the other friends about 
him. I thought I was going to be drowned, 
you know,” he said simply. “The water kept 
pouring in faster and faster, and then it came up 
over my feet. I climbed up onto a pile of 
rocks and stood there with Laddie in my arms, 
but the water came higher and higher, till it was 


Frank’s Illness 


313 


over my knees. Poor Laddie was trembling and 
whining, for he was frightened too, and all at 
once he sprang out of my arms right back of me. 
I turned round and saw him standing in an open- 
ing in the rocks just above my head. 

“I climbed up there after him as well as I 
could. It was a kind of tunnel-like place, all 
dark inside, but there was plenty of room to 
stand there, and it was out of the water. But 
by and by the water began to rush in there, too, 
and we had to keep stepping on ahead of it. 
The ground was rough and jagged, and it grew 
darker and darker as we went on, but we could 
hear the water coming after us, and that made 
us hurry on. We seemed to be going up hill 
all the time, and by and by the water stopped 
coming. But as we went on the tunnel got 
smaller and full of rubbish, and I could n’t stand 
up any more, but had to creep along on my hands 
and knees. 

“ That was when it began to seem so dreadful,” 
said poor Frank. “ It was all stuffy and close. 
I could hardly breathe, and I did n’t know what 
to do. I knew I could n’t turn back, for there 
was the water behind us, and I did n’t feel as if I 
could creep on farther and farther into the earth, 
where there was no air and no light and noth- 
ing but sharp stones that hit against my face 
and hands as I scrambled over them. Sometimes 
I thought I could n’t go on, as it grew harder to 


A Misunderstood Hero 


3H 

squeeze through the stones, but Laddie kept urg- 
ing me and so I ’d try again. I do n’t know what 
made me, for I did n’t think we could ever get 
out. I felt as if we were going deeper and deeper 
into the ground, and yet I seemed to feel that it 
was up hill all the time. Sometimes Laddie would 
go on far ahead, and then I ’d think he ’d left me 
there to die alone, but he always came back and 
barked and urged me to come on. So then I ’d 
try it again. 

“ I do n’t know how long we went on in this 
way. It seemed a long, long time to me, and I 
grew so tired and weak that I had to stop to 
rest. Sometimes Laddie would wait for me and 
sometimes he’d go on ahead, but he’d always 
come back and tell me to try again. It was so 
dark I could n’t see him, but he ’d come up close 
and bark and try to push me with his nose, the 
way he does, you know. 

‘‘By and by we came to a dreadful place, worse 
than all the rest. I got into it, but it was such a 
small opening I could n’t get through. I tried to 
go back, but some stones had tumbled down be- 
hind me just after I had squeezed through, and I 
could n’t get back. There I was, and I thought 
I must stay there and die. 

“ I do n’t know what happened then. I think I 
must have fainted or something. The next thing 
I knew I felt Laddie pulling at my blouse and 
trying to make me move on. He had found a 


Frank’s Illness 


315 

new opening in the stones somewhere, and we 
squeezed through. Then we went on and on till 
we came to another place where we could n’t get 
any farther, and that ’s all I seem to remember, 
till I found myself here in father’s bed. Oh, you 
don’t know what a queer feeling it is to go to 
sleep in such a place as that and wake up here ! 
It seems as if it must have been a horrible dream 
I had. Or is this the dream ? ” 

“ No, indeed, you are wide awake now, my 
boy,” said his father earnestly and clasping him 
close — “ my brave boy, who has been through 
peril which would have made the heart of any 
strong man quail ! ” 

“And it was for me, father, that he did it,” 
cried Philip. “ O Frank,” he said, throwing him- 
self on the bed beside his brother and clasping 
his arms about him, “ O Frank, can you ever 
forgive me for all I ’ve made you suffer ? O 
Frank ” 

But Frank, turning his face to his brother, put 
up his weak, trembling hand against the other’s 
lips. “ Do n’t, Phil,” he said, “ do n’t cry. I 
can’t bear it. Do n’t you see how happy I am 
about it all ? Why, I ’m glad it happened ! I 
feel as if we ’d been given to each other all over 
again. And we are going to make things so dif- 
ferent now, are n’t we, Phil ? ” 

“You’d better believe we are,” said Phil, 
brightening, but with his voice trembling still. 


316 A Misunderstood Hero 

“ You know, Frank, what kind of a brother I 
mean to be now. You know what I said yester- 
day.” 

For the two brothers had had a talk together 
the day before, as long a one as the doctor would 
permit, in which poor Philip must have poured 
out his whole sorrowful, repentant and grateful 
heart to his brother, judging from the happy, 
contented look which I had seen upon their faces 
when I entered Frank’s room afterward and 
found them lying side by side with their arms 
clasped around each other. 

After this all went well with our invalid. 
Each day we could see that he gained in strength, 
though at first the progress was slow. It was 
indeed a pleasant sight to see him with his father 
and Philip now, and one which I never tired of 
witnessing. He often lay with his hand in his 
father’s, listening to Philip, perched upon the 
foot of the bed, where he poured forth his eager 
chatter as brightly as ever. There was a new 
expression in Mr. Sinclair’s eyes, as he smiled at 
Philip’s jokes and then glanced at the face of the 
boy on the bed. It was a tender look which 
needed no words to tell how well the lesson he 
had just received was learned. Whatever the 
coming years might bring to Frank, I knew his 
father’s steadfast love would never fail him now, 
and that never again would the latter feel that 
pang of self-pity which had once led him, in my 


Frank’s Illness 


317 

hearing, to regret that the lame boy had been 
named for him. 

Frank laughed merrily enough at Philip’s fun, 
and occasionally joined in with a shy word or 
two. It was but a word or two, however, for 
he had not yet learned to speak in his father’s 
presence with that freedom and light-hearted 
carelessness which Philip had known all his life. 
But that would come in time, and, meanwhile, 
they were all three so happy together, each in 
his own way, that, as I have said, it was a pleas- 
ure to see them. 

]^or did Frank lack for other visitors. Madge 
was always flying in and out of the sick-room, try- 
ing, in her bright, cheery fashion, to interest and 
amuse her brother, endeavoring by every means 
in her power to make up to him for the loss of 
the sisterly affection which should have been his 
years before. She knew now how wrong her judg- 
ment had been, how utterly she had mistaken 
his character, and little b}^ little, as the days 
went on, she was learning to know and love him 
as he deserved. 

Mrs. Archer, too, never failed in her daily call 
upon the invalid. The calls were not very long, 
nor were they pleasant, it is to be feared, to 
either the aunt or the nephew. Frank could not 
feel at ease with his Aunt Margaret, though I 
could see that he really endeavored to be so, 
while she, though she wished to do what she con- 


A Misunderstood Hero 


3*8 

sidered her duty by the child, could not even 
now, after all he had suffered, force herself to 
feel for him any real affection. 

Besides, though the haughty lady would have 
scorned to make any exhibition of her resent- 
ment in public, it was evident to me that her 
brother had given her deep offense. What Mr. 
Sinclair may have said to her in regard to her 
mistaken treatment of his sons, I never heard, 
but it must have been something sternly to the 
point, and something, too, which caused her deep 
anger and humiliation. Her manner became 
quite changed toward him, and even with Madge 
and Philip she no longer allowed her old affec- 
tion to manifest itself. She held herself proudl}^ 
aloof from them all, shutting herself up in her 
own room as much as possible, and, aside from 
the brief visit to Frank’s room every day, made 
for duty’s sake, seeing as little as she could of 
anybody. 

Toward me, her manner became more icy than 
it had ever been, and in fact, from that time till 
the day of her departure, she never deigned to 
address even the slightest word to me or to show 
that she was at any time aware of my presence, 
except for the coldest possible nod of greeting 
with which she favored me when I occasionally 
passed her in the halls. 

Of course this extreme hauteur showed plainly, 
as no doubt it was intended to do, the opinion 


Frank’s Illness 


319 

Mrs. Archer held in regard to my part in the re- 
cent events, but as I felt a consciousness that I 
had done only what seemed right and necessary, 
I bore her displeasure with considerable equa- 
nimity. 

However, if Frank saw little of his aunt there 
were plenty of other people coming and going 
about him, as soon as he was able to bear it. Of 
course, Kalph, who had shown deep feeling when 
he, like every one else, had believed Frank to be 
drowned in the mine, and who was now thank- 
ful to have his friend restored to him, was often 
in the sick-room trying to enliven Frank’s dull 
hours with his funny nonsense, his drawings and 
the like. I am not sure that there was not at 
times some very serious talk interspersed with 
the fun, and I know that the bond of friendship 
between the two boys became very close. 

Then all the other members of the household 
seemed to vie with each other as to who should 
perform for Frank the quickest and gladdest 
service. Everybody now knew the right story 
about the horse. Philip had made sure of that. 
With his father to sustain him he had gone man- 
fully to Mrs. Dale and John and had told them 
everything which had happened in regard to 
poor Prince Charlie. 

The confession had been a difficult one for 
Philip to make, but he had made it truthfully 
and bravely, and had found himself, as generally 


A Misunderstood Hero 


320 

happens, not only happier after the trial was 
over, but strengthened in his good intentions by 
the full forgiveness and approval of all the per- 
sons concerned. Indeed, I think that everybody 
loved Philip better after his brave confession of 
his faults than they had done before when they 
thought he had no faults. 

But while Philip had lost nothing in his friends’ 
affections through the knowledge of his fall, 
Frank had gained everything ; for all now knew 
how he had shielded his brother, not only in re- 
gard to “ Prince Charlie ” but in a hundred other 
ways, and were swift to recognize his heroism in 
saving his brother at the risk of his own life. And 
as they came about him and tried to make acquaint- 
ance, with evidences of friendliness to which he re- 
sponded in his own shy fashion, they wondered how 
they could ever have called him dull or sullen, for- 
getting that he had been the latter at least and that 
it was only a little kindness and love which had 
wrought the change. They were in and out of 
his room a dozen times a day, from the Dales 
and the Todds down to little Saint and Sinner, 
who were always hanging about the door, peep- 
ing in with sharp curiosity, eager to find some- 
thing to do, “ to dribe off dat fiy,” or to “ sabe 
steps for gran.” 

Old Uncle Jone came puffing slowly up the 
stairs every morning to see how the sick boy 
was and to bring him some woodsy thing to re- 


Frank^s Illness 


321 


mind him of his old haunts or perhaps to give 
him the latest information with regard to the 
health of “ Old Bloatie ” the frog, or of the little 
school of fish, all of which pets had fallen to 
Uncle Jone’s faithful charge. The old man 
never could do or say enough to manifest his ad- 
miration for the heroism the boy had shown. 

“I ’clar,” he said one morning to Frank’s 
father, “ ’t ain’t eb’ry day you-all can fin’ a boy 
like dat-a-one. Dey doan’ grow on eb’ry bush 
now, dey doan’. Leastways, not to my kno win’s 
ob. Yo’ take car’ ob dat boy, boss, now yo’ done 
got him back again. He needs good car’, dat 
boy. Yo’ won’t be sorry ’bout him yet. Bress 
his heart! Chil’un dey hab dey own troubles, 
but I hope he doan’ go ter hab no mo’. Bress 
him ! He sabed his brudder’s life, he did.” 

Then the good old man, after this plain speak- 
ing, hobbled down-stairs, wiping his eyes and 
blowing his nose vigorously as he went. 

As for Aunt Mirny, she was in her element as 
soon as Frank began to mend, for she could then 
spend all her spare time contriving little dishes 
of good things to tempt his slowly returning ap- 
petite. Her broad, fat face would beam with de- 
light and her eyes would twinkle as she appeared 
in the doorway with a morsel of tender quail 
browned to a turn, or a dish of delicate custard 
to please the boy’s fancy. 

“Bress de chile,” she would say, “’t won’t 


322 


A Misunderstood Hero 


do him a mite ob harm. Po’ little starved 
chicken ! mo’ flesh on his bones den dar is 
on my pipe-stem, an’ no mo’ color in his face, 
needer. You-all let Aunt Mirny git to work. 
She ’ll soon hab him fed up right. On’y, honey, 
doan’ yer let dat ar brudder ob yo’s eat it up 
now, nor little Bedhead, needer. Dey ’s bof out 
dar jes’ ready ter grab it. Yo’ eat it all up now, 
eb’ry bit ob it, jes’ ter please Aunt Mirny. Now 
do, honey.” 

And Frank, partly to please the good old cook, 
and partly because with boyish mischief he was 
ready to do his part toward saving the dainties 
from the two hungry boys, whom he could see 
casting longing glances from the hall door upon 
his treasures, would obediently swallow as much 
as he could, laughing, meanwhile, at the dis- 
mayed faces in the doorway. 

For it was true that Philip and Ealph both 
paid great court to Aunt Mirny in these days, 
and faithfully followed her about from kitchen 
to chamber whenever Frank’s meal-times came 
around. At first they had fallen heirs to most 
of the delicacies which Frank had been unable to 
eat, but as he became convalescent they had 
found fewer opportunities to indulge in such de- 
lights, until finally he had attained to a substan- 
tial appetite of his own and had grown to appre- 
ciate Aunt Mirny’s cooking to such an extent that 
they were no longer able to gather up even a crumb. 


Frank’s Illness 


323 

Accordingly, it is not to be wondered at that 
they resorted to all sorts of pranks and jokes to 
avenge themselves in a merry way on Aunt 
Mirny for giving all the good things to Frank, 
and on Frank for eating them “ down to the bare 
egg-shells and potato skins,” as they indignantly 
declared. But it was such good-natured malice 
that the chief victims did not mind it in the 
least. When Frank found a caterpillar or an en- 
terprising young crawfish snugly rolled up in 
the folds of his napkin, he only laughed gleefully 
and carefully preserved the little prisoner till he 
could retaliate by suddenly springing it upon its 
unsuspecting original owners. It was the same 
way with Aunt Mirny in the kitchen. When a 
toad frantically jumped out of a bowl into her 
face, she would simply toss her head and give a 
sniff of disdain, and when her attention was 
called to an immense picture of herself neatly 
pinned to her back, she would only chuckle good- 
naturedly and say, “ Dat ’s some mo’ dat little 
Bedhead’s nonsense.” 

It is but justice to the boys to say that the 
jokes were harmless in these days, far different 
from some that had been perpetrated earlier in 
the season. Indeed, the two found their sweetest 
revenge in the making of funny pictures, which 
they freely scattered from kitchen to garret. 
They even went so far, upon a certain occasion, 
as to thrust an enormous piece of pasteboard 


324 A Misunderstood Hero 

fastened to a long pole, up through Frank’s win- 
dow and on into the room till it paused in its 
precipitate career under the very nose of the 
grave and dignified doctor himself, who looked 
considerably astonished at the advent of the 
strange visitant. 

Upon the pasteboard was quite a striking rep- 
resentation of Frank sitting up in his bed, hun- 
grily gazing at something on a platter borne in 
the hands of Aunt Mimy, who appeared in the 
door with a triumphant smile which stretched 
from ear to ear. On either side of her were her 
little grandchildren, each armed with a great 
spoon with which they were busily engaged 
in “shooing” away two large roosters with 
heads and faces bearing a strong resemblance 
to Masters Philip and Kalph themselves. It 
was a comical picture, and made even the doc- 
tor laugh heartily, when he recovered from his 
surprise at its sudden entrance, though he said 
that the joke appeared to be on the young gen- 
tlemen themselves, rather than on Frank or 
Aunt Mimy. 

Thus after the long days of watching and 
weary waiting about our boy’s bedside, there 
came a pleasant time when we were all at ease 
and happy together. The danger was over ; our 
hearts were lightened of their heavy load and 
we could once more afford to laugh and be merry. 


CHAPTEK XYIII 


CONCLUSION 

There comes an end to all good things, and 
so to us came all too soon the end of our pleasant 
sojourn together at lovely Glen Elsworth. For 
autumn winds were beginning to remind us of 
our own homes and the duties awaiting us there. 

The first break in our little circle came when 
Mrs. Archer departed, taking with her Madge 
and Philip. It was wiser, their father thought, 
that the two children should be at home attend- 
ing to their school work, and as Frank, though 
still unable to endure the journey, was rapidly 
recovering, there seemed no longer any need of 
their remaining at Glen Elsworth. 

Still, they were reluctant to go, and Philip, 
especially, clung to his brother at the last with 
many tears. He knew that it was to be more 
than a few weeks’ parting between Frank and 
himself, for by this time it had been definitely 
arranged that as soon as Frank should be strong 
enough to travel, he was to accompany me to my 
own home, there to remain as my beloved guest 
for a visit to which no limit had as yet been set. 

It had all come about as I had hoped it would. 
In some of our long talks together I had per- 

325 


A Misunderstood Hero 


326 

suaded Mr. Sinclair that it was wiser that the 
boys should be separated for a time. True, they 
were loving brothers now, and we hoped would 
always remain so, but it seemed best that each 
should live without the other till Philip should 
learn to rely upon himself, and gain strength to 
fight his own childish terrors and “ bear his own 
blows’- which his brother had too often borne 
for him. And certainly it was better that Frank 
should be removed from his old home influences, 
from his aunt, even from his sister, and from all 
his old associates, until he, too, amid new scenes 
and new friends, could learn to look at life from 
a different standpoint, till those newer, gentler 
traits of character which we noted so thankfully 
from day to day, should have time to grow ; in 
short, till the old, sullen-faced boy should com- 
pletely vanish, and in his place should stand a 
brighter, happier, better Frank than anybody 
had ever known. 

So we let Philip go. But though, as I have 
said, it was hard for the brothers to separate, 
their parting was not all in sorrow ; for had they 
not the promise that the next long vacation 
should be spent together at my home ? Yes, and 
Kalph was looking forward to the happy time 
when he should be there also with his dear young 
friends. 

“ I tell you. Miss Agatha,” he said, “ I know 
there never was anybody as good as you. It ’s 


Conclusion 


327 

so jolly of you to ask me to come and see you. 
Come ? Of course I ’ll come ! If I could n’t get 
there any other way I ’d go on foot. Oh, do n’t 
I know what high old times we ’ll have ? — horses 
to ride, and boats on the river and all that. Oh, 
I ’ll come fast enough ! l!Tobody need worry 
about that.” 

It was in this enthusiastic fashion that my 
young harum-scarum friend had accepted my 
cordial invitation to visit Frank and Philip the 
coming summer, subject to his mother’s approval, 
of course, which we found it not hard to obtain. 
Indeed, Mrs. Todd entered so heartily into my 
plan for her boy’s pleasure, that, when the turn 
for the Todd family came to say good-bye to us 
who remained behind, Kalph was not so wholly 
cast down as might have been expected. 

Then we, Mr. Sinclair, Frank and I, yes, and 
Laddie, of course, settled down for a little further 
waiting, till finally, one sharp, clear morning in 
late October, the old coach for the third time 
lumbered up to the front door to await another 
series of leave-takings, this time between the Dales 
and the last of their summer guests, three quiet 
people, to say nothing of one small dog, who with 
love and thanks to those they left behind them, 
and with grateful hearts for the blessings gained 
and the lessons learned in that mountain home, 
set forth upon their homeward journey. 


328 A Misunderstood Hero 

A year has come and gone since we bore our 
invalid boy over the rough mountain roads that 
October day, and carried him by slow degrees to 
his own place in my far-away home. There he 
has remained to this present time ; and I need 
scarcely say that the bond between my little lad 
and me has only grown the stronger as the days 
have gone by. 

Who seeing him now would recognize in the 
strong, well-grown boy, with bright, alert face 
and genial smile, that sullen, downcast Frank 
whom we first met upon a certain rough and 
perilous journey that I, at least, can never for- 
get ? From the very first, the dear boy felt him- 
self at home in my house and heart, and it was 
marvelous to see the good which that feeling 
quickly wrought in his sensitive nature. As 
soon as he was strong enough to bear it, I pro- 
vided a good tutor for him, a kind-hearted, judi- 
cious teacher who could thoroughly understand 
his nature and needs, and before the first month 
had passed the two had become devoted friends, 
and Frank has already shown such progress in 
his studies as to fully prove him far removed from 
the dull boy he had once been called. 

Gradually we drew about him the companion- 
ship of several other boys of his own age, boys 
of gentle natures and kind hearts, that he might 
not lack the incentive either in his studies or his 
play which such companionship brings. It was 


Conclusion 


329 

gratifying to see how the sensitive child, who 
would once have shrunk from children of his 
own age, soon learned to hold his own among 

them, and how in all their pursuits, whether in 
school or outdoor life, in riding or rowing, or 
any games in which Frank’s lameness would per- 
mit him to take part, he became as free and care- 
less and light-hearted as any of them. 

Thus the months rolled by till the summer va- 
cation came, and brought with it the longed-for 
meeting between Frank and his father and 
brother. 

At last my fond hopes were realized, when I 
saw Mr. Sinclair clasp Frank in his arms, and 

then, putting the boy from him, scan him with 
the same look of pride in his eyes which, in the 
old days, had been given to Philip alone. And 
well might he be proud of him, lame and near- 
sighted though he still was. For Frank had 
grown sturdy and strong in this last year, and 
though not yet so tall as Philip, bade fair to be- 
come so in another twelve months. Then his face 
was so sunshiny and his smile so sweet as he 
looked shyly into his father’s eyes — ah, who 
could help a thrill of pride in such a son as that ! 
JNiOt Mr. Sinclair, as I could see. 

His eyes turned to Frank again and again 
through all the happy confusion of the brothers’ 
greetings. 

“Dear friend,” he asked, “how have you 


330 A Misunderstood Hero 

made him like this? What has wrought the 
change ? ” 

“Love and sympathy have done it all,” I an- 
swered. “ He needed nothing more.” 

“ He shall have both while I live,” said his 
father earnestly. Then he added with a little 
break in his voice, “ He looks more like Philip, 
but most of all he is like his mother.” 

But the meeting of the young people was 
merry enough to offset any display of emotion 
on the father’s part. Hot only were the brothers 
in a state of joyous excitement at being together 
once more, but a later train having brought 
Kalph Todd upon the scene, my old house fairly 
rang with mirth and jollity from that time on 
through all the long vacation. 

How they rushed about from garret to cellar 
with Laddie leaping and yelping among them, 
and fairly shaking himself out of his skin from 
pure delight, as the boys declared ! How they 
fished and hunted and boated and rode! It 
would make another story as long as this if I 
were to tell the doings of the three boys and 
their mates through that summer vacation. I 
must not attempt it, but only say that through 
all the nonsense and glee, the noise and confu- 
sion which reigned supreme for ten long weeks, 
I still could see the change I had so often wished 
for in my two young friends, Philip and Kalph. 

They were as bright and merry as ever, but 


Conclusion 


331 


Philip told no more of his wonderful stories, or 
even once tried to shield himself behind his 
brother. I knew that he was trying to be brave 
and truthful, and that he had never forgotten 
the sharp lesson he had learned in the mountains. 

And Kalph, though he was as full of tricks as 
ever, and kept everybody in a chronic state of 
anxiety for the safety of his life and limbs in his 
many misadventures, was also changed. His 
mischief was never malicious now as it had been 
in the old days, and I believed he still kept those 
“feelings” with him which he had found on a 
certain memorable day on the top of Mount 
Eyre. 

Indeed, they are both good boys, and very dear 
to me. If Frank holds the first place in my affec- 
tions it is not surprising. Frank is the child of 
my heart. When I mark the change in him 
which even this brief year has made, I am filled 
with joy that it was given to me to aid even in a 
small way in bringing about that change. 

I cannot be sure that he has yet learned to 
love his Aunt Margaret, but I believe that even 
that may come in time, and at all events, he is 
not likely to see much of that proud lady in the 
future. She has been traveling abroad with 
friends during the last year, and lately a report 
has come to us that she is about to marry there. 
I hope it is true, for surely the three children are 
better off without her. 


332 A Misunderstood Hero 

As for Frank’s mind, about which there was 
once so much discussion, his teacher tells me that 
he is often surprised at the boy’s insight into hu- 
man nature, at his fertile imagination and his 
ready pen. I always thought that gift for story- 
telling must mean something, and though Frank 
is still very young and we cannot tell what the 
future may have in store for him, I often please 
myself with the thought that, after all, it may 
be he who will sometime add luster to the name 
of Sinclair, and that the day may come when 
his father will rejoice that it was the little lame 
boy who had his own name, Francis, bestowed 
upon him. 

But whether these bright dreams of mine come 
to pass or not, it will not greatly matter, for in 
so far as I am able, I mean to look out for my 
boy’s future. Yes, Aunt Margaret was quite 
right there. I shall certainly do what I can for 
Frank. Why should I not, when, as I have said, 
he is the child of i?iy heart ? There are others 
who are dear to me, but none so dear as he. It 
would be strange indeed if I should neglect to 
do anything which may be in my power to 
brighten his future life when I am dead and 
gone. 

And now there remains nothing to say except 
to mention a certain grand scheme which I and 
my young friends, Philip and Frank, have in view 
for the coming summer. If nothing happens to 


Conclusion 


333 


prevent, we propose to go abroad for two long 
years of study and travel. Mr. Sinclair has 
quite agreed to this, and we are looking forward 
to our sojourn in foreign lands with the deepest 
interest. At present I am trying to make up my 
mind whether to take Ralph Todd also. I know 
he wishes it, and Frank and Philip wish it. His 
mother, too, would be entirely willing that he 
should go. But do I dare to take the responsi- 
bility of keeping such a merry rogue as Ralph in 
order ? 

However, Frank’s tutor is to go with us to 
teach the boys, and I shall have my niece with 
me, to say nothing of a trustworthy maid, and it 
will be strange if we three cannot manage three 
small boys, even if one of them is something of a 
madcap. 

So, after all, I think I shall let my own heart 
decide the matter, and that says that Ralph 
ought to go. 


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